


The Other Princeps

by jesatria



Category: Codex Alera - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Work In Progress, massive spoilers for first lord's fury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 106,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesatria/pseuds/jesatria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Attis’s confrontation with Invidia during the battle of Riva goes better for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Close Escape

          “Your Highness, below you! Look out!”

          I glanced down at my feet and jumped backward, just in time to avoid being skewered by a flaming sword. The green flames flickering down the blade marked it as Invidia’s. “Crows take it,” I cursed under my breath. It seemed my fire-sphere hadn’t been enough to finish her off, much to my dismay. I couldn’t say I was entirely surprised, only disappointed.

          The roof exploded outward and there she was, my ex-wife, traitor to humanity and the bane of my existence for the last twenty-odd years. My fire-sphere had done considerable damage—her hair was entirely singed off and her face was covered in hideous burns. Even the disgusting Vord creature on her chest hadn’t escaped the damage. There was something immensely satisfying about seeing Invidia, who’d always been incredibly vain, robbed of her looks permanently. “Do tell me you’re done with that insufferable gloating, Attis,” she sneered. “I never could stand that habit of yours.”

          My hand slid inside my jacket and drew out the envelope containing the divorce papers. I’d been carrying it on my person just for this occasion. I tossed it at her feet. “For you. Love what you’ve done with your hair.”

          “And what is this?”

          “Your copy of the divorce papers.”

          “How thoughtful.”

          I smiled. “Necessary. I couldn’t legally be rid of you until I had served them.”

          Invidia took a step toward me, her ruined lips curving into a cruel smile. “You’ll soon be rid of me now.”

          I unsheathed my own sword and ignited it. Scarlet flames flickered down the blade. “And that not soon enough.” It was no exaggeration. I’d never wanted to marry Invidia and had only done so because it had been arranged by my parents, with me given no choice whatsoever in the matter. I had only become reconciled to being legally manacled to her when I realized how she might be useful for my ambitions. But that was over now. The time had come to sever ties. Permanently.

          “For either of us,” she purred in response. I stepped forward, sword raised, ready to meet her in battle. Behind me, the wounded Count and Countess Calderon lay defenseless near the roof’s edge. Invidia’s sword came slashing toward me; I moved to counter it.

          The piercing cry of a falcon split the night. A fire fury I recognized as belonging to Lady Placidus Aria crashed into the roof between Invidia and I. A wall of flame erupted from the spot, putting a halt to our duel before it had even started. I dared not turn to see who was approaching—I knew better than to take my eyes off Invidia even for a second. I saw her gaze shift to a point over my left shoulder before locking back on me. “Bloody crows,” she snarled. She spun sharply and jumped off the edge of the roof, veiling herself before giving any indication where she was heading. I moved to the edge, scanning the area for any tell-tale rippling that might reveal her location, but it was impossible to make out. There was too much smoke in the air and too many fires burning in the immediate area.

          “Damn it!” I shouted. “Damn it to the crows!” It was the perfect opportunity! I damn near had the bitch and now it was unlikely I’d be able to bait her like this again.

          The wall of flame vanished. I turned to face Lady Placida, who knelt on the roof to examine the Count and Countess. Lords Placida and Cereus were there as well. Behind them Phrygius, his son, and Rivus stood guard in the air. “Why did you stop us?” I demanded of Aria. “I could’ve disposed of Invidia once and for all!”

          Aria met my glare, her face set and hard. “There’s no time. The city is lost. We’re rendezvousing with the Legions’ rear guard now. We’ve got to move.”

          I took a moment to scan the city. The rooftop offered a decent view, only obscured here and there by towers. Many of the fires were beginning to die down now. In the distance I could make out the shapes of Vord swarming over the last defenses. There was no denying it—Riva had fallen, despite my defensive preparations, and there was only one place left to run. “Attis.” Aria’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “We have to go.”

          I looked at her and nodded. “Right. The Calderons are both badly in need of healing tubs.” I moved over to Count Bernard’s unconscious form and hauled him up over my shoulder. He was as tall as me, but much more muscular and solidly-built. A year ago I might’ve left him to his fate and considered myself rid of a dangerous enemy. I was well-aware of his personal hatred of me, which I admit was justified, but he would be sorely needed in the days to come. Aria picked up Countess Amara, who was drifting out of consciousness. I tightened my grip on Bernard and took off. The others followed suit and together we headed to the rendezvous.

          As we flew over what had yesterday been the city of Riva, it occurred to me that Amara’s warning on the rooftop may well have saved my life.

 

**

 

          The next few hours passed in a flurry of activity. Prior to the Vord War, I’d never once been forced to order a desperate retreat after a defeat, not even against Kalarus’s mad Immortals. Now it had become the norm. This was the third such retreat I’d endured since the Vord War began; I supposed I was getting used to it. In truth it is difficult to recall the exact details. I remember handing the Calderons over to the healers, who loaded them onto the wagons they were using to transport the wounded. I can recall giving orders and directing the retreat until I thought I might faint from exhaustion. All the metalcrafting in the world could only hold it off for so long. I wanted nothing more than to strip off my damn armor and find a safe spot to collapse. It didn’t even have to be comfortable, as long as I could sleep for a while. I couldn’t remember exactly when I’d last felt so exhausted. It might’ve been during my days at the Academy, or more likely in those first horrible days after Septimus’s death. I did not care to dwell on that time.

          Somehow we managed to retreat in a semblance of order. Once again, it had been Amara’s warning which had saved us. I’d known before of how capable she was, but the two debts I now owed her only strengthened my resolve to keep her near me, though she liked me little better than her husband did. As we rode for the Calderon Valley, I tried not to dwell on the thousands of corpses we’d left behind. I sighed—it had been so much easier to ignore these things when I was physically removed from them. It had been easy, too easy, to rationalize and reason away the casualties that would result from a Marat invasion of the very same valley I was currently riding toward. There was a bitter irony in that, and the fact that I was now forced to work closely with two of the people most responsible for foiling my scheme. War did indeed make for strange alliances.

          “Sire, are you feeling well? You look like you could use some rest,” Sir Ehren’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. I’d not even noticed him ride up beside me.

          “We could all use some of that. I’m fine, only tired. And thinking. How goes the retreat?”

          Ehren swallowed hard before answering. “As well as possible given the circumstances.”

          I gave a small nod in response. “That’s as much as we could hope for.” Another thought came to me as I looked at the Cursor. “You are a close friend of Gaius Octavian, are you not?”

          My watercrafting senses never picked up much from him—he was too good at concealing his emotions—but this time I detected a hint of fear. He didn’t want to speak about Octavian to me, which was entirely understandable. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

          “I was able to get a brief watersending through to Antillus when we came under attack. No doubt someone shared the news with him. I assume he will have set out for Riva with his forces in order to relieve us. It is my intention to use the Calderon Valley as a funnel, to concentrate the Vord forces into a smaller area while he comes upon them from behind. Do you think he will be able to discern my plan?”

          Ehren seemed to perk up a little at the mention of Octavian heading toward us. “Yes, I can say with certainty that he will.”

          Memories of Septimus surged within me; I pushed them aside. “Good. I’ve heard that he is quite a clever and cunning man. With some luck, we can crush the Vord between us as hammer and anvil.”

          “I hope so, sire. For all of us.”

          “Thank you for your candor. It is greatly appreciated.” I’d largely tried to avoid dwelling on Octavian thus far, aside from my marriage proposal to his mother. It wasn’t because he was my rival for power—that meant nothing now with the Vord upon us. Rather it was that thoughts of Octavian inevitably turned to thoughts of Septimus, and I could not afford to dwell on pain and regret with a war to run. We would sort out the question of who was to rule as First Lord later, if there was a later.

          I could not say how long we rode. Dawn was painting the horizon shades of pink when I ordered a halt. Even with the boosts of strength offered by the causeway, no one could march forever, especially not Legions who had just fought a desperate retreat. We had to rest, as much as we could anyway. I ordered the fresher Legions to guard our rear and flanks. There was no time to bother with a tent, or even a bedroll. I had no idea which of my personal effects made it out of Riva, if indeed any did. I dismounted, unpinned my red cloak, and lay down in a decent-looking patch of grass by the side of the causeway. I balled my cloak up into a makeshift pillow. I didn’t dare remove my armor. “Wake me if we come under attack,” I instructed Ehren.

          Sleep took me quickly.

          Septimus was there.

          He looked as he had the last time I saw him, when they found what remained of him after First Calderon. The sight had been permanently branded in my mind and it still resurfaced in nightmares all these years later. His lower body had been crushed by an earthcrafting attack. Several Marat arrows pierced his chest and arms; blood dripped from the wounds. Worst of all was his face. He’d been burned by a firecrafting attack much like the one I’d used against Invidia. His face had been burned almost beyond recognition. In life, it had been too horrible to look upon for long. In the dream, I looked directly into his eyes. They were the only part of his face that was unmarred.

          His ruined lips opened and he spoke. “I wanted to make changes. I wanted to make things better, make Alera better.”

          The familiar pain returned. Even with the passage of time, there were still moments when it hit me with the force of an earthcrafting-enhanced blow. I buried it deep inside me during my waking hours, but I had no defense against dreams. “Why are you telling me this?”

          His green eyes were bright in his charred face. “My son, Attis. My son…”

          Someone was nudging my shoulder. Invidia had an irritating habit of doing that whenever I overslept after a night of indulgence. It was one of the many things to hate about her. Septimus abruptly vanished and I opened my eyes to find Ehren kneeling beside me.

          “What is it?” I muttered, groggy.

          “You told me to wake you if we came under attack.”

          I got to my feet and stretched. Sleeping in armor is thoroughly unpleasant and I do not recommend it. “And we’re currently under attack?” Ehren opened his mouth to answer; I raised a hand before he could speak. “Never mind, of course we are. How long was I asleep?”

          “About two hours, sire.”

          I picked up my cloak and repinned it around my shoulders. “Well, _some_ sleep is better than none.” In truth I felt refreshed, Septimus nightmare aside. “We’ll need to get moving. Send word to the vanguard to move out at once. Which Legions are currently engaging the enemy?”

          “The Antillan Legions. High Lord Antillus is coordinating the defense.”

          I breathed a sigh of relief. Raucus and his veteran Legions would give the Vord a hell of a fight. “I’d best join them.”

          “Are you sure that’s… entirely wise?”

          “Perhaps not, but it is my duty to lead and I have never been one to do so from the back. See to it that the columns begin moving as soon as possible.” Ehren saluted and left to carry out my orders.

          I immediately took to the sky. As I flew toward the battle, it occurred to me that perhaps wounding my _singulares_ as part of my gambit to draw out Invidia hadn’t been the best idea. I was flying toward a battle unprotected, but there was nothing to be done about it. From my aerial vantage point, I could see the Vord forces clearly as they advanced on our rearguard. Vordknights flew overhead; Knights Aeris rose to meet them. Below, a sword flickered with ice blue fire near the Legion standards. Raucus. I started to head for him when I noticed a group of Vordknights approaching.

          I sped upward, hoping the Vordknights would follow. They took the bait. I had to grin—this high up, I’d be able to generate powerful lightning strikes. I paused for a moment to gather a charge before loosing a barrage of lightning bolts on the Vordknights. The lightning took my customary shape of crimson falcons out of habit—I supposed I could’ve used the eagle of the House of Gaius, but I stuck with what I was used to. The Vordknights soon fell to the ground in charred pieces. I drew my sword and ignited it. I flew straight for the embattled Knights Aeris, shooting more lightning at the Vord as I went. A few of the nearest Knights took heart at my approach and attacked the Vordknights with renewed ferocity. I felled two Vordknights with as many strokes of my sword as I joined the Knights Aeris. “To me!” I shouted, holding my flaming sword aloft. “Rally to me!”

          Together we took on the remainder of the Vordknights. I hit them with another barrage of lightning, then we moved to engage those that were still aloft. The air filled with the acrid smell of burning Vord chitin. My sword was a scarlet blur as I severed Vord limbs, heads, and wings. In a short while, we had the skies cleared. “Stay on guard in case they come back,” I instructed the Knight Commander. “I go to speak with High Lord Antillus.” I broke off from them and made for Raucus’s command group.

          He stood beneath the white and blue banner of Antillus, with the standards of the Antillan Legions around him. His sword, clenched in one large hand, still shone brightly with ice blue flames. I extinguished my own sword and landed beside him. “Good of you to come by and lend a hand, Attis!” he greeted me.

          I grinned. “Thought you might need it.”

          Raucus clasped my armored shoulder with a gloved hand. “You did good for an amateur.”

          “Amateur?” I raised an eyebrow. “Only compared to you.” After a moment I added, “Old friend.” I had to admit the sight of his familiar craggy face was a reassuring one. Until he arrived with his Legions after the Battle of Alera Imperia, I hadn’t seen or corresponded with Raucus in years. I’d essentially severed ties with him after Septimus’s death and he never came to the capital, not even for Wintersend. He hated Gaius as much as I did. Now a significant part of me was very glad to see him again, and not just because of his prowess in battle. It brought back memories of the old days, when he, Septimus, and I were inseparable. I gave my head a slight shake—there was no use dwelling on those things now. “What is the situation here?”

          “We’re holding steady against them, but they’re not hitting us with all they’ve got. Either they’re not in a particular rush to finish us off, or that bitch Queen of theirs has something else dividing her attention,” said Raucus.

          I immediately thought of the cities not yet under Vord control as far as we knew, my own city among them. Were they causing enough trouble to draw away the Queen’s attention and give us a chance to make our escape? I was fairly confident that my own people wouldn’t surrender without a fight, but I’d been forced to leave only my household guards, the city guard, and a militia composed of the strongest non-citizen crafters to defend my beautiful city. Or was Octavian causing trouble in the Vord’s rear? Not for the first time I wished they hadn’t all but cut our watersending capabilities. “It could be the cities proving tougher than she’d anticipated, or it could be Octavian. Let’s hope she’s not planning some nasty new surprise for us.”

          Something stirred in Raucus’s eyes at the mention of Octavian. “My boys are with him.”

          “From what I’ve heard, they make quite a good team. Let’s hope they can find a way to deal more damage to the Vord.” I looked out at the battlefield, where the Legions continued to stand firm. “Raucus, I’m giving you total command of the rearguard defenses. Be sure to rotate the Legions so the men have time to recover between attacks. I trust you to appoint capable subordinates to handle things while you take time to rest.”

          Raucus met my eyes, then saluted. “I’ll see to it, old friend.”

          Before taking my leave of him, I turned my gaze back to the west. Somewhere beyond the Legions and hordes of Vord was Octavian. _Where are you?_ I wondered. _Please come as quickly as you can._

**Notes**

As you could probably guess, I was quite disappointed with Attis’s fate in _First Lord’s Fury_. This fic was born out of that disappointment. This is my first time writing in this fandom, and I hope you’re enjoying it so far!


	2. Appearances

          It was early afternoon when the rain began.

          “Oh, this is _excellent_ ,” I remarked when the first drops hit my skin. “I for one was feeling too dry!” Rain was one of the last things we needed right now with so many refugees lacking adequate shelter. The only benefit it offered was preventing the Vordknights from being able to fly. That took some of the pressure off the beleaguered Legions defending our rear. I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head in a vain attempt to keep dry, heartily wishing I had my waterproof cloak with me. A small consolation was that there was no need to worry about my armor rusting, as it was made of the finest furycrafted Aleran steel and would not rust so easily.

          A visit to the baggage train, which followed close behind the command group, told me that some of my personal effects had made it out of Riva. Flavius, my valet, had acted quickly when news reached him of the evacuation and packed the essentials. Unfortunately these did not include my waterproof cloak. I could hardly fault him for that—indeed I resolved to give him a pay raise if we both survived this. As the rain continued, I thought with longing of the chest of clothing he’d packed, dry and infinitely more comfortable than my armor. My command tent had made it out too, though it was useless with us still moving.

          Many of the supply wagons were less full than I would’ve preferred. There hadn’t been enough time to pack the supplies needed for everyone. It was my own fault—I should’ve prepared better for a possible evacuation. In my defense I hadn’t known there was anywhere else suitable for making a stand. If only the Calderons had shared their defensive improvements to the Valley with me sooner! Most of the food consisted of standard Legion rations. I quickly recognized the danger posed by too little food and too many mouths to feed and organized a ration system. Priority would be given to the wounded, the sick, the elderly, and the children. Everyone else would have to make do with less. I ranked myself in the latter group and was prepared to give up my ration to someone who needed it more, when Lady Placida insisted I eat. “You’re too important. You need to keep up your strength,” she argued. “Eat your ration and try to get some rest. Sandos and I can take over command for a while.”

          I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Yes, Mother.” The ration consisted of standard Legion-issue hardtack and a cup of the wretched vinegar drink known as _posca_. _Legionares_ drank it when there was no ale available. Despite the food being thoroughly unappealing, my stomach rumbled at the sight of it. It must’ve been at least a day since I’d last eaten. The hardtack was indeed hard enough to chip a tooth on, so I made it slightly more palatable by dunking it into the _posca_. The stuff was hard to swallow, especially for one such as me whose province produces the finest wines in Alera, but it was strangely refreshing. What I would’ve given for a bit of bacon to go with the hardtack! The grease alone would’ve improved it greatly. I tried not to think of the delicacies I regularly enjoyed at home. If bacon was too much to hope for, my favorite honeyed figs were an unfathomable luxury. Still, I ate my ration without complaint. It was surprisingly filling, though not exactly tasty.

          When I was done eating, I chose to follow the second part of Aria’s suggestion and get some more rest. I found myself a covered wagon with extra space and had the driver move up to join the command group. We could all take turns sleeping in it. This time I didn’t bother with a makeshift pillow. I made myself as comfortable as possible and wrapped my cloak tightly around my body. It was already damp from the rain, but it would suffice for now. This time I did not dream of Septimus. Despite the bumpy ride and the constant patter of rain on the canvas wagon roof, I did manage to get a bit more sleep without interruption. I felt much more refreshed upon waking. Unfortunately, it was still raining. I sat up, stretched, and mounted my horse to rejoin the command group.

          They did not make for a very impressive sight. All of them were showing the strain of the last few days. Dark circles were visible under their eyes and no one’s armor was free of the signs of battle, though the rain had washed off much of the blood. They all looked as bedraggled as I surely did, hair and cloaks soaked through by the crowbegotten rain. “Well, what did I miss?” I inquired.

          “Not much,” answered Lord Placida. “The Legions are still holding the Vord at bay.”

          “Good. Casualties?”

          Lord Placida sighed heavily. “Steady. Our healers are being pushed to the limits. They’ve been working hard to heal wounded _legionares_ so they will be fit for duty as soon as possible.”

          All of that was expected, though it was hardly good news. “It could be worse. We’ll have to create a rotation for the healers too.”

          “With all due respect, I’ve already taken the liberty of doing so,” said Lady Placida.

          “Excellent,” I replied, turning to face her. She looked as if she might collapse from exhaustion at any moment. “Have you been assisting the healers, Aria?”

          She nodded. “I’ve been tending to the Calderons. Both of them are on their way to recovery. They’re resting right now.”

          A wave of relief washed over me. I did not believe their injuries were life-threatening, but it was still a relief to know they were on the mend. We needed them too badly to lose them now. “I’m glad to hear it.” I took a moment to study both Placidas. Sandos looked nearly as worn out as Aria. “Both of you need rest. You’re of no use to Alera if you both drop dead from exhaustion.” I gestured to the wagon I’d recently vacated. “Feel free to use that wagon. It’s hardly a comfortable sleeping place, but it’ll do in the absence of anything better.”

          “We’ll take you up on that offer,” said Sandos. Both Placidas dismounted and headed over to the wagon.

          I turned my attention back to the other High Lords. “Lord Riva, how long until we reach the Calderon Valley?” I had no use for the man, but this was his province and he knew the area best.

          “If we keep up our current pace, I’d say we’ll reach the valley in two days or so,” he answered.

          I sighed. “One day would’ve been better. We’ll have to endure as best we can until then.” There was nothing else to be done. Once I was finished getting updates from the High Lords, I elected to pay a visit to the refugees marching behind us. It is important for a leader to be visible to his people, to go out and be seen among them. I might not be able to give them the hope Octavian did, but I could still serve as a symbol for them, a sign that Alera might be beaten and bloodied, but it was not broken. They needed to know that I was still fighting, and by extension so was Alera. They needed to see their Princeps. The fact that I was a rather unimpressive sight at the moment was irrelevant. The only concession I made to vanity was a brief stop at the wagon carrying my belongings. I exchanged my sodden cloak for a dry one and donned my steel circlet. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. I made sure to sit up straight in the saddle as I rode to the refugee columns—it wouldn’t do for a Princeps to slouch when presenting himself to his people.

          If I hadn’t been through two retreats similar to this one already, the sight of the refugees might’ve stunned me and rendered me speechless. As it was, the pitiful condition of many of them struck me hard. The fortunate ones had wagons or horses to ride, but the majority trudged along through the rain and mud. A good number of them had been refugees for some time now and this was not their first retreat. Most of them were too thin and many coughs and sniffles could be heard. The crowbegotten rain wouldn’t help with that. I felt their eyes on me as I rode past them. Some of them stared at me with something like awe, but others looked on with narrowed, accusing eyes. They blamed me for the defeat at Riva and for them being uprooted from yet another place they’d hoped might be safe.

          I accepted their scorn calmly. They were right—I was in command, so the blame fell with me. All I could do was learn from the experience and do better next time. I had to. If I didn’t, Alera as we knew it would cease to exist. Now I had to do my best to convince these people not to lose faith in me. I might not be as adept at filling people with hope as Septimus was, but I know how to inspire those who follow me.

          “Your highness!” A young girl in a tattered dress stepped in front of my horse. I immediately halted and looked down at her. She lowered her eyes out of respect. “Your highness, please! Please help!”

          I dismounted and strode over to her, hoping she wasn’t about to request a covered wagon or extra food. “What do you need?” I asked genially.

          She swallowed hard. “My mother is sick. We took her to the healers, but they turned us away.”

          Her words were like a stab. I knew the healers had to devote most of their attention to wounded _legionares_ , but knowing and seeing are two different things. Any leader had to make such hard decisions. You learned to accept that and do your best to avoid thinking about them. That didn’t make it any easier when you were brought face-to-face with those affected by said hard decisions. “Please,” the girl begged. “She’s too weak to march. My father’s been carrying her, but…”

          I raised a hand and she fell silent. “Take me to her.” As I followed her through the press of refugees, my horse’s reins in hand, my thoughts turned to Gaius. The man had known how to play the political game and run a military campaign, two necessary qualities in a First Lord of Alera. I might’ve despised him, but I could respect him for that. Where he failed was in winning the hearts and minds of his people. They respected and feared him, but they did not love him. That was the crucial difference between him and Septimus, who had a gift for inspiring love in those who served him. Now I’d been presented with an opportunity to do the same and hopefully restore some of their faith in me.

          The girl led me to a pair of people in clothes as tattered as hers. The sick woman was wrapped in a worn blanket and she looked at me with glassy eyes. I laid a hand on her forehand. One good thing about the rain was that it made it much easier to summon my water furies without a healing tub available. “She’s feverish,” I informed the girl and her father. “I’ve healed infections like this before. If you like I can heal her right now.”

          Both the man and the girl’s faces lit up with elation. She gasped and all but sank to her knees as she exclaimed, “Thank you, your highness!”

          “I’ll have a wagon sent down here. That would be infinitely better than lying in the mud. A healing tub would be ideal, but I’m afraid there are none to spare at the moment. Would you happen to have a washbasin or something similar?”

          They didn’t, but another family did. The girl held up the basin to fill it with rain water while I procured one of the spare wagons. We laid the woman in the wagon and I placed the basin beside her. My water furies were there at my call and I immediately set about healing her. Healing had never been a particular strength of mine, but I was as skilled at it as any High Lord of Alera. There was something strangely refreshing about healing someone after doing so much battlecrafting. I understood why Aria had chosen to assist the healers. Several minutes passed before I felt the last remnants of fever fade away. “How are you feeling now?” I asked.

          The woman began to rise from her prone position; I extended a hand to help her up. “Much better. Thank you, your highness,” she answered, grabbing my hand.

          “It has been a pleasure to be of assistance,” I replied with a smile. A crowd of people had gathered around the wagon to watch. It wasn’t long before more of them came forward, bringing with them more of the sick and injured. I hadn’t exactly intended to spend time working as a healer when I decided to visit the refugees, but I could hardly turn them away now. I beckoned the closest forward, a woman with a small, sick child.

          The next few hours passed quickly. A good number of those I healed were ill, but a significant amount of them had injuries inflicted by the Vord. The sun was setting by the time I chose to stop. I was beginning to grow weary and I needed to keep up my strength. Besides, it was nearly time for another meeting with the command group. As I took my leave of the refugees, I couldn’t help but notice the deep gratitude in their eyes. In that moment, I knew I had them. The cold and calculating part of my mind noted that I’d now formed a personal connection with them, something Octavian didn’t have. But I shoved that thought away before I could dwell on it. Those considerations did not matter now. What did was that I had just made some progress toward making up for my mistakes. I’d shown them that their Princeps _cared_.

          Before returning to the command group, I decided to make a visit to the healers. I hadn’t yet done so, and I knew my presence could be as much of a morale boost there as it had been to the refugees. The healers came right after them, just in front of the Legions. The sight was not an easy one, even for someone with plenty of experience of war. I forced myself to look, just as I had at Riva. Wounded _legionares_ could be seen everywhere. A number of them had suffered only minor damage, but too many were not so fortunate. Limbs had been sliced off, stomachs and chests slashed open. Many of the healing tubs were stained red with blood. The healers themselves looked little better, with bloodstains all over their clothing. “Welcome, your highness.” I looked down to see Cereus Veradis greeting me.

          “How go things here?”

          Veradis sighed heavily. “As well as possible under the circumstances.” Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes.

          “How are the Calderons faring?”

          “They’re much improved. Amara is awake and alert, though Bernard is still sleeping,” she replied.

          “Very good. I’d like to speak with her.” Veradis nodded and led me to the wagon where both Calderons rested. “Try to get some rest,” I said to her before she left to attend a patient. “We can’t afford you dropping dead of exhaustion. You’re too skilled a healer.” Veradis nodded and took her leave. I then turned my attention to the Calderons.

          Amara was sitting up in the wagon, looking much better than she had when I’d left her with the healers. She regarded me with wary eyes as I rode up beside her. Seeing her and Bernard take such a beating from Invidia made me regret using them in my scheme to draw her out. The nature of it had made me unable to tell them beforehand. Now I feared whatever fragile compromise we’d reached had been damaged. I had to trust that Amara’s pragmatic nature would prevail and she would continue to cooperate with me. “Greetings, good Countess,” I began, smiling genially at her. “I am glad to see that you are recovering from your injuries.”

          “Me too, your highness,” she said evenly.

          “You should know that I hold you in high regard and the sooner you can return to your duties, the better,” I continued.

          “The healers told me I’m nearly good as new,” she informed me, then glanced over at her husband’s sleeping form. “I wish I could say the same of Bernard. His broken jaw will take some time yet to heal.”

          I nodded. “I regret what befell both of you in Riva and I won’t blame you for mistrusting me now. But there is one thing I’d like to ask you.” I met her eyes. “On the rooftop, you realized what was happening before I did. Why did you warn me? If you hadn’t, Invidia would’ve had me.”

          Amara was silent, her lips forming a thin line as she considered my question. I could pick up nothing with my watercrafting, which wasn’t surprising. All Cursors learned how to conceal their emotions. After a minute passed, she spoke. “I did it for the realm. You might’ve gambled with our lives and those of your _singulares_ , but we need you. The realm needs you.”

          “I see. Ever the loyal Cursor.”

          “That’s not all of it. There’s another thing too.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

          “I’ve started to realize, over these last few months, that you are not the man I’d thought you were before. You’re not like your wife.”

          Isana had said the exact same thing to me months ago. I sighed in frustration. “My ex-wife, you mean. Why does everyone seem to think I’m the male version of Invidia? We share very little in common.”

          Amara didn’t answer. “I can’t forget Second Calderon and the other things you’ve done in pursuit of your ambition. But I’ve also seen you fight bravely against the Vord and work hard to hold the realm together these last few months. I can respect that part of you.”

          I gave her a slight nod in acknowledgement. “I take your meaning. I suppose I can’t ask for anything more.”

          Amara saluted, then laid a hand on Bernard’s arm. This time I felt a sharp spike of affection from her. Something in the simple gesture stirred a longing in me I didn’t know I’d possessed. This was how a marriage was supposed to be, at least for those who were not High Lords. Being in a marriage devoid of love and affection for twenty years, I had not personally experienced such things. _What’s gotten into you, getting so sentimental?_ I chided myself. “Is there anything you need?”

          “No, we’re quite set with what we have,” she replied.

          “Be sure to let someone know if you do need anything else. Eat, rest. We should be arriving in the Calderon Valley in two days or so.” With that, I took my leave of her.

 

 

**Notes**

Legion rations- I based the rations off what actual Roman legionares ate. Pass the Garum ([www.passthegarum.co.uk](http://www.passthegarum.co.uk)), a cooking blog about ancient Roman food, has some excellent info on this.


	3. Endurance

          The rain persisted. I dared to hope it would stop during the night and give way to a sunny morning, but there was no such luck. I reminded myself once again that it grounded the Vordknights as I rose from the covered wagon I’d slept in and prepared to face another day of retreat and misery. I’d finally changed out of my armor to sleep, which had been an enormous relief. I was in no hurry to don it again any time soon, but it was too risky to go without it. If the Vord broke through our rearguard defenses or came around our flanks, I needed to be prepared.

          “If I survive this war, I’m getting a new suit of armor made,” I remarked to Flavius as he adjusted my shoulder straps. “I’ve seen quite enough of this one.”

          “Perfectly understandable, your highness.”

          “You have no idea how grateful I am that you saved a trunk of my clothes. If we both make it out of this, I’m giving you a raise.” I placed the steel circlet on my head and took the dry cloak Flavius held out to me. I pinned it around my shoulders with my eagle pin. My hair was a bedraggled mess badly in need of a comb and I was certain my face showed the strain of the last few days, but at least no one else looked much better. I tried to push all thoughts of comfort, dry clothes, soft beds, hot baths, and good meals from my mind—thinking about them would only make me more miserable. At least I was alive and free of illness or injury, unlike too many of the refugees. The unseasonably cold weather coupled with the rain had a way of cutting through clothing and chilling you to the bone. I feared for the refugees in such conditions and resolved to put in another healing session with them. I had to remain visible and accessible to them, lest their hope fade in the awful conditions we were forced to endure.

          Breakfast consisted of another helping of hardtack and _posca_. It was hardly more appetizing than it was yesterday, but it was food. When I was done eating, it was time for another update and meeting with the command group. The Vord hadn’t broken through our lines during the night, which was an enormous relief. Even so, it was time I paid a visit to Raucus and got an update from him. This time, I elected to ride. I could’ve flown in the rain, but it wouldn’t have been a pleasant experience.

          When I arrived, a pair of _legionares_ escorted me to Raucus, who was finishing off the last of his breakfast ration. “Good morning, Raucus,” I greeted him.

          He stared at me with narrowed eyes. “Since when are you so damned awake in the morning?”

          “Since I have to be. It’s not that I have any choice in the matter. You know me well enough to know what I’d rather be doing this early,” I replied with a grin.

          “How could I forget? Sep and I hauled you out of bed when you overslept and almost missed class enough times,” said Raucus. “I remember you taking a swing at me at least once.”

          “Probably.” It had been some time since I’d thought of my Academy days in any detail. I preferred to avoid dwelling on those memories, as they were full of Septimus. But with Raucus here, it was all too easy to think of those better days long ago. “I seem to recall Sep and I nursing you through more than one hangover.”

          That brought a laugh from him. “I could say the same of you.” Raucus drained the last of his _posca_ and set the cup down on the wagon. “What brings you here?”

          “The pleasure of speaking with an old friend. Oh, and an update,” I answered. Both were true.

          “Well in that case I don’t have much to tell you. The situation hasn’t changed. The Legions are still holding firm, but the Vord haven’t let up the pressure on us. I fear that we won’t be able to keep this up for much longer,” he said, all traces of amusement gone from his voice.

          “With any luck we’ll only have to keep it up for another day or so and then we’ll be safely behind the walls of the Calderon Valley, as safe as we can be anyway. I assume there have been no unpleasant surprises?”

          Raucus shook his head. “No, just the same Vord forms we saw at Riva.”

          “I’m worried they may be saving something nasty for us. The Queen may be throwing hordes at us now in order to weaken us, then she’ll hit us hard to finish us off. That’d be entirely in character for Invidia,” I explained.

          “Good thing we’ve got someone in our ranks who knows how she thinks,” said Raucus.

          “Yes, but the reverse is true as well. No doubt Invidia’s told the Vord Queen everything about me.” I gave him a weak grin. “Still, it’s good to know that twenty years of marital misery were not a total waste.”

          To my surprise, Raucus let out a hearty laugh. “I can certainly relate to you there!”

          “You and Kalarus’s sister not getting on? There’s a surprise! I remember you wanted to marry that other woman, the mother of your bastard.” I paused for a moment, trying to recall her name. “Diona?”

          Raucus nodded. “You never had anyone like her, did you? Someone you wanted to marry instead of Invidia.”

          I met his eyes. “No.”

          “Ah, well, you never were a one-woman man. Surprised you don’t have a bastard or two of your own.”

          “None that I know of, though there may indeed be an Aquitainar or two or three who are mine.” It was a subject I’d not given all that much thought. I knew for a fact that a few of my regular lovers used their watercrafting to prevent pregnancy, so there was no chance of bastards from them. As for the others, it would’ve been entirely futile to speculate. Acknowledging any bastards would’ve been pointless, as Invidia would’ve killed any child of mine she came across out of pure spite.

          Raucus grinned. “Talking to you like this brings back old times.”

          I returned his grin. “I feel the same.”

          “Too bad there’s a war going on.” He stood and straightened his cloak. “Do you have any news for me?”

          I shook my head. “Everything continues as it has since the retreat began. Our progress would be better if not for this bloody rain. It’s really making things miserable for the refugees.”

          He nodded. “Any further orders?”

          “Keep the Vord from finishing us off.” Raucus grinned and saluted before heading off to the front. “Oh and Raucus? Try not to get yourself killed.” He turned and gave another salute before continuing on his way. I watched him until he was out of sight before moving on. It was good to reconnect with him again after so long.

          I paid a visit to the healers next. They were as hard-pressed as yesterday, something unlikely to change until we reached the Calderon Valley. I hoped none of them had fallen victim to exhaustion since my last visit. There were just as many wounded _legionares_ as there’d been last time, and considerably more bloodstains to be seen. I went to speak with the Calderons again. Bernard was awake this time, and he regarded me with barely-concealed hatred. His jaw was badly bruised, though the swelling had gone down since I last saw him.

          Amara saluted. “Sire.”

          I acknowledged her with a nod. “Countess Amara. I trust your health continues to improve?”

          “It does. I think I’m well enough to ride, and Bernard is too.”

          I looked at the Count. “Can you speak?” I asked.

          Bernard grimaced and managed to open his mouth a fraction. “Hurts,” he choked out.

          “I can speak for him,” Amara interjected.

          “Good. Both of you will soon be needed. We have a few spare horses and I’ll have some sent over for you.”

          “Thank you,” said Amara.

          “Once you are mounted, I’d like both of you to join the command group. Bernard will be needed to help coordinate the defense when we reach the Valley.” I turned my gaze back to him. Animosity practically radiated off the man. I did not think there was anything whatsoever I could do to make him hate me a little less. Hopefully Amara could get him to at least cooperate with me. “There’s no one with a better grasp of the Calderon Valley’s defenses than you and I would have you join the command group for the duration.”

          Neither of the Calderons gave any reply and a tense silence settled over us. Bernard’s eyes smoldered with hatred. Amara laid a hand on his arm and he turned to meet her eyes. Something seemed to pass between them, and then Amara spoke. “We would both be pleased to serve in whatever capacity would best aid the realm.”

          “I am glad to hear it. I will send you horses immediately and await your presence in the command group.” Amara saluted; Bernard did not. I moved on.

          The refugees were no better off than they’d been yesterday, indeed many of them looked worse. The hardships of this retreat, of the entire Vord War, were written all over them. The difference was that this time many faces brightened when they saw me. Word of my healing session yesterday had spread. People began to crowd around me, making it more difficult to move through the columns. If I hadn’t already planned to put in another healing session, that would’ve sealed the decision. I could hardly deny them now.

          Utilizing the same setup as before, I spent time healing the sick and injured who approached me. There were less of the injured this time, as they hadn’t come under attack since the retreat began. I hoped that would remain the case until we reached the valley. The numbers of the sick, on the other hand, were increasing. The rain had to take most of the blame for that. It continued to pour down on us, filling the air with unpleasant dampness. Being warm and dry was starting to feel more and more like a distant memory.

          The crowd was larger this time. I was glad to see it, as it ensured word would continue to spread and I would keep their loyalty. When the healing session was done, I returned to the command group. I was pleased to see that the Calderons had joined us. The rest of the day passed with little of note happening. It was something of a relief. When it was my turn to sleep, I retired to the covered wagon I’d used before and changed into the clothing I’d slept in previously. No sense in dirtying more clothes unnecessarily. As I made myself as comfortable as possible, the thoughts I’d tried to suppress all day came flooding into my mind. A pillow and a warm blanket alone would’ve been enough to improve the situation greatly; I began to regret not retrieving my bedroll. A lover’s body pressed against mine would be better.

          It had been too long, the longest I’d gone without bedding anyone since my period of mourning after Septimus’s death. It was entirely unnatural, though unsurprising. Holding what was left of Alera together did not leave much time for seduction. That seemed unlikely to change in the near future. Still, I couldn’t help but think of how much better this would be if it were a soft woman beneath me and not the rough boards of the wagon. I hoped I’d get to bed one more beautiful woman or man before I died, if indeed it was my fate to die in this war. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of lovers.

          Rousing myself proved to be difficult the next morning. The dreams had been entirely too pleasant and I was in no particular rush to end them. _This should be the last day,_ I reminded myself _. I’ll be sleeping in my command tent tonight._ Slowly, I rose and changed into my armor. I stepped out of the wagon and was met by more crowbegotten rain. After another breakfast of standard Legion rations, I joined the command group. “Please tell me you’ve been stockpiling decent food behind your fortifications,” I remarked to Amara.

          “We have, sire,” she answered. “As you know, we have been taking in refugees for the last few months. There’s also plenty of land where earthcrafters can grow crops.”

          I heaved a sigh of relief. “I could hug you for that, if it wouldn’t bring the good Count’s wrath upon me.” I would have to discuss the valley’s defenses in detail with them today, but it could wait until I’d received updates from the others. My _singulares_ accompanied me this time, now recovered from their injuries. The sight of them whole again went a long way toward alleviating my guilt over injuring them. It was not something I had any intention of doing again.

          There was no change from yesterday. I fervently hoped the Vord wouldn’t suddenly spring some new horror on us just when we were in sight of the Calderon Valley. As I told Raucus, it would be perfectly in keeping with Invidia’s character to spring a trap just when we’d reached safety and let down our guard. She knew how to exploit weaknesses.

          “Can you give an estimate for when we’ll reach the Valley?” I asked Riva.

          He took a moment to study the landscape. Trees lined the causeway and the land seemed to be turning to rolling hills. I couldn’t help but feel encouraged—surely the valley wasn’t far now! “I’d say we’ll be there before the evening, barring any… unforeseen circumstances,” he answered.

          “Then I will look forward to dining in Calderon tonight!” I exclaimed.

          “When we get there, I might just kiss the ground,” Phrygia remarked.

          “You wouldn’t be the only one,” I replied.

          “I just want to get out of this crowbegotten rain,” said Sandos.

          “And a warm bath wouldn’t go amiss,” Aria added.

          When all the updates were done, I called the Calderons over to discuss the Valley’s defenses. “We can discuss this in more detail later, once my command tent has been pitched and a sand table set up, but I think we ought to have a plan in place before we arrive. I trust you have detailed maps of the Valley?” Amara nodded. “Very good.”

          “As I told you back at Riva, we have erected two walls at strategic points in the Valley and expanded the defenses at Garrison,” Amara began. “The walls are just the start. We’ve been working on some other things too.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” It was truly incredible that they’d done all of this without attracting even Riva’s attention.

          “My nephew and I worked together on this,” said Bernard, each word punctuated with a grimace of pain.

          “Well, that’s encouraging,” I said earnestly. “I’ve heard he is quite a cunning strategist. Tell me about these defenses.”

          Bernard looked to Amara, who spoke for him. “At the first wall, we used earthcrafting to raise flammable minerals close to the surface. With some firecrafting, they can be set on fire to trap the Vord in an inferno."

          I nodded. “Much like Gaius did at Alera Imperia.” The destruction of the capital had been a horrible thing to witness, though it had destroyed the bulk of the Vord forces. That gave us a much-needed reprieve. The downside was that it had come at a terrible price. Here, it would be just as effective without said price.

          Amara continued with a detailed description of the wall and its features. It was the shortest of the three, which meant it would be the easiest to breach. “I think it would be best to use the first wall as a decoy,” I proposed. “It will buy us time to get the refugees and wounded to safety and regroup. Your fire trap will hopefully let us take quite a few Vord down as well.”

          They nodded. “Of the three, Garrison has the strongest defenses. If we’re going to make a last stand, that would be the ideal place for it,” said Amara.

          “I’m hoping we can win this war without a desperate last stand, but that’s looking increasingly unlikely,” I replied.

          We spent a good amount of time going over the first wall in detail. There was so much to take in that I had one of my _singulares_ fetch me a writing tablet from the supply wagons. I was quite certain I hadn’t taken so many notes since I was an academ. Septimus used to joke that they were utterly incomprehensible to anyone but me, and not due to any fault in my handwriting.

          I’d just finished my discussion with the Calderons when loud cheers broke out among the Legions marching in front of us. It could only mean one thing. “It’s the Valley entrance. We’ve made it!” Amara exclaimed.

          I let out a cheer despite myself. Though I was overjoyed that the retreat was finally coming to an end, the sight of the Valley stirred other emotions in me as well. I was forcibly reminded of my only other visit, something I count as the worst memory of my life thus far. I’d been too late, then. With some effort, I pushed those painful memories aside and focused on the present. More cheers erupted behind us.

          It took me a moment to realize they were not cheers of joy but rather shouts of terror.

          The Vord had broken through the rearguard defenses.


	4. New Allies

          Chaos erupted around me.

          Panicked refugees made for the trees on either side of the causeway as Vord surged through the break in the defenses, cutting down anyone in their path. Horns rang out as the Legions on our flanks formed up to face them. “Phrygia!” I shouted, “take the First Phrygian to assist them. Now!” He swiftly saluted and left to join his Legion. “We need to see how many there are and assess the state of our rearguard.” I dismounted and drew my sword. “I can’t say I appreciate the Vord breaching our defenses just as we’ve arrived at the Calderon Valley and I’ve a mind to show them how displeased I am.” A moment later I was in the air, accompanied by the Placidas, Cereus, and Amara. Flying in the rain was still unpleasant, but necessary. No Vordknights could be seen, meaning they’d not yet found a way to fly in the rain. Even the Queen couldn’t create new Vord forms in just a few days. “Amara, I want you to scout along our flanks. Report back to me if you see the Vord attempting to envelop us or cut us off,” I ordered. She sped off after a brief salute. The rest of us continued on to the sight of the battle. It soon became clear what had caused the breach. From what I could see from my aerial vantage point, there had been a weak spot in the defensive line and the Vord immediately exploited it. The _legionares_ were currently struggling to plug the gap. “There.” I pointed to the spot. “Looks like they could use our assistance.”

          One other good thing about the stormy weather was that it allowed us to gather charges more easily. We flew closer to the breach, then unleashed a barrage of lightning on the Vord. My scarlet falcons fell like rain, each one striking a Vord warrior. I put all the anger and frustration I’d been feeling over the last few days into each strike and it was immensely satisfying to see Vord fall to my attacks. The others’ strikes were just as deadly and we soon cleared enough Vord away for the Legions to finally close the gap.

          Another group was heading toward us. The lead flier was instantly recognizable. “Raucus!” I exclaimed. In a few moments, he’d closed the distance between us. He was accompanied by a handful of Knights Aeris and Antillan citizens.

          “Bloody crowbegotten bastards!” he cursed. “One of my _legionares_ collapsed once we sighted the entrance to the Valley and they were on us before we could blink.”

          “Reinforce the line!” I shouted. “We only have to hold out for a little bit longer!” Raucus nodded and flew straight for the spot where the breach had been. I very nearly followed him, but I was needed elsewhere. Besides, if anyone could take care of himself, it was Raucus. I turned to my companions. “We need to do what we can to protect the refugees. I want the three of you to scout the trees for them and lead them back to the columns. If they stay scattered in the trees, they’ll have no chance against the Vord.”

          “And you?” Aria asked.

          I looked down at the Vord warriors currently attacking the desperate refugees. The fact that they’d been cut off from their fellows hadn’t slowed them down in the slightest. “I’m staying here.” Once the Placidas and Cereus left to carry out my orders, I flew closer to the battle below. Vord warriors chased after fleeing groups of refugees. Cavalry detachments rode forward to defend them—I recognized the colors of my own First Aquitaine among them. Taking care to avoid hitting any Alerans, I sent more lightning at the Vord. Ahead, several of the teamsters had circled their wagons to form a defensive barrier. The air rang with screams, Legion horns, and drums. _Drums?_

         I circled closer to the wagons and ignited my sword. I could make out Ehren attempting to bludgeon a Vord warrior with a sack of supplies. The Cursor was no fighter, I knew. I flew down to assist him and plunged my flaming sword through the Vord warrior’s back. Ehren stared at me in shock as I dispatched two more Vord who were advancing on us. “Hold on just a little longer,” I yelled to him. “We’ve plugged the gap in the lines. There are only these ugly bastards to deal with.” Ehren nodded and took up a loose wagon board to defend himself.

          Outside the circle, _legionares_ formed squares around the refugees who’d fled the columns. Other Legions were forming up on the sides of the columns, preparing to face the Vord. The wagons were on their own. That sealed my decision to remain where I was. Taking to the air again would’ve done little good—there was too great a risk that my lightning would hit Alerans instead of Vord. Fire-spheres took too much time to charge and drained too much energy, as much as I’d have liked to burn the Vord to a crisp. Thus, I put my sword to good use. I struck off the scythe-arm of a Vord warrior that came at Ehren, then took its head off. All the while the drums grew louder.

          I smashed one Vord warrior with an earthcrafting strike, then skewered another. I felt satisfaction every time my sword ended the wretched existence of another one of them. Seeing me fight to protect them seemed to give the people heart and they redoubled their own efforts. Even so, the Vord overwhelmed some of the wagons and slaughtered those inside them before I could intervene. It was impossible to save them all, even with my best efforts.

          The ground began to shake, and I knew instantly it was not the result of earthcrafting. The cacophony around me was suddenly pierced by a rumbling bellow that gradually rose into a shriek. An enormous gargant charged toward us, mowing down Vord as if they were no more than ants. As it moved closer, I could see a rider perched atop it. Several pieces of information fit themselves together in my mind. I thought back to what I knew of the Vord infestation from five years earlier, how the Marat chieftain Doroga and his gargant had fought them beside an Aleran Legion. He was said to be a good friend of the Calderons. Now it seemed he’d come to our aid. “The Marat,” I heard myself say. “The Marat are here!”

          A massive cudgel smashed into a Vord warrior advancing on my left and sent its head flying from its shoulders. “Good day!” shouted a deep, cheerful voice.

          “Good day!” I called back to the Marat. “You are a most welcome sight!”

          The Marat was enormous, with arms as thick as tree trunks. He swung his cudgel like it weighed no more than a twig. I daresay I’d have found it heavy to lift even with earthcrafting-enhanced strength. Every time it made contact with a Vord warrior, the warrior fell and stayed down. With the Marat aid, we were soon able to dispatch the remaining Vord. When every one of them was dead, I sheathed my sword with a sigh of relief. Many dead littered the ground, both Vord and Aleran. I felt a surge of anger at the unfairness of it all, that these people should die within sight of the Calderon Valley. There was no time to do other than gather the bodies and burn them. The Vord were still menacing our rearguard and we had to get behind the walls before another attack like this could occur. It was another few hours before we reached the wall, and more time yet before everyone, Marat and Aleran alike, was safely on the other side of it. The retreat was finally over.

          As soon as the wagon carrying my possessions passed through, I had my command tent erected in the midst of the makeshift Legion encampments. The tent lacked many of its usual furnishings, but the most important pieces were present. These consisted of a sand table, several camp stools, and my cot. I greatly looked forward to sleeping in it tonight. The tent, even in its diminished state, was luxurious compared to what I’d been living out of since the retreat began. It was truly amazing how going without simple comforts made you appreciate them so much more. I was greatly looking forward to eating a decent meal for dinner tonight.

          In the meantime, there was work to be done. The refugees had to be accommodated and preparations made to get them to a permanent settlement. For now, they would stay in their own camp. Those who had sufficient furycrafting or other useful skills would assist the war effort in whatever ways they could. We had many extra Legion-issue tents available due to casualties sustained during the retreat, so I had them distributed to the refugees. The tents went a long way toward providing many of them with shelter, but there weren’t enough for everyone. I hoped we’d be granted enough of a reprieve that the refugees could be moved into more permanent accommodations without difficulty. The further they were from the Vord, the better.

          The next order of business was to take stock of the Legions. From the rough estimates made at the start of the retreat, approximately half of the massive army I’d assembled at Riva made it out. They’d taken losses since then, which no one had been able to tally due to the frantic nature of the retreat. The Legions had taken heavy losses in the battle to offer the refugees and civilian population of Riva a chance to escape. I’d known it would happen when I gave my orders, but that didn’t make it any easier to cope with the numbers of dead. I supposed I should’ve been used to it by now. Every encounter with the Vord had resulted in enormous casualties. No military campaign I’d ever participated in, from my mandatory term of service with the First Aquitaine to the recent campaign against Kalarus, had resulted in such casualties. I had to simply accept them and turn my mind to the next engagement. If I didn’t, I would surely collapse from the weight of grief and responsibility. It was so much easier to ignore these things when I didn’t have to see these people on a daily basis.

          Once the Legions were established in their camps, I sent Ehren to collect information on each Legion’s strength so I might know how many _legionares_ were fit for duty. The Cursor had sustained a few minor injuries during his battle with the Vord, so I took a few minutes to patch him up before sending him off with a tablet. I busied myself with setting up the sand table while he was gone. When he returned, I called a command meeting and requested that all the High Lords, Legion Captains, and several Senate representatives attend.

          Before they arrived, I took a moment to change out of my armor and into a silk tunic and leather pants. I combed and brushed my tangled hair as best I could, then put on my circlet. As a final touch, I added the elaborately-engraved gold armbands that signified my status as a High Lord. In different circumstances I might’ve had new ones made showcasing my status as Princeps, but it would be incredibly selfish and idiotic to have smiths craft such a thing when they were sorely needed to forge armor and weapons. The only other item I wore attesting to my status was my eagle pin.

          I seated myself in a camp stool behind the sand table. It showed the Valley and its defenses in detail, with green sand representing the line of Vord advance. Ehren stood in attendance at my left. Slowly, the others trickled in. The Placidas were the first to arrive. Aria promptly took up position on my right, with Sandos beside her. They were followed by Raucus, then Phrygia and his son. By the time everyone had arrived, the tent was quite crowded. Extra camp stools had to be brought in, and even then many chose to stand to save space. The Senate representatives clustered together near the door, knowing they were only here for ceremonial purposes.

          “That’s everyone, isn’t it?” asked Raucus.

          I held up a hand. “The Calderons are not here yet, and we cannot begin without them.”

          Raised voices could be heard outside the tent. A moment later a _legionare_ entered. He hurried over to the sand table and saluted. “Pardon, your highness, but Headman Doroga requests admittance to the war meeting.”

          I’d completely forgotten about the Marat chieftain when thinking of those I wanted in attendance. There was no reason for him to be excluded. He might’ve been a barbarian, but he’d come to our aid at great risk. “Tell Headman Doroga I send my compliments and extend my gratitude to him for coming to us in our hour of need. He is most welcome to attend.” The _legionare_ saluted and left the tent.

          A moment later, the Calderons entered. Following behind them was the same Marat I’d exchanged greetings with during the battle. He wore what had once been an Aleran tunic, though the sleeves had been torn off to accommodate his massive arms. They were at least as thick as my thighs. _So this is Headman Doroga._

          Amara seemed to be favoring her left hand, which didn’t escape Veradis’s notice. Doroga and Bernard continued forward while Veradis examined the Countess’s arm. The Marat’s eyes were fixed on me, studying me intently. “Be right back,” he said to Bernard, then walked up to the sand table. The tension in the room seemed to grow with every step he took. I wondered exactly what he intended and was very conscious of the cudgel in his hand. No Marat had cause to think well of me after Second Calderon. Aria slid forward to intercept him. “Take it easy, woman,” said Doroga. “Just want to talk to him.” His Aleran was good, though strongly-accented.

          “Your weapon, sir,” said Aria. Doroga handed her the enormous cudgel without any complaint. She visibly struggled to lift it, even with earthcrafting.

          Doroga stepped onto the platform and stood directly in front of me with the sand table between us. He planted his hands on his hips and stared down at me. “You would be the Clan-Head Doroga?” I asked politely.

          “Yes,” he answered. “You are the man whose people convinced Atsurak to lead thousands of my people to a bloody death.”

          I stared at him—I hadn’t expected him to bring up Second Calderon so openly. The tension was very thick now. I surveyed the room. Expressions of shock could be seen on some faces, satisfaction on others. I was within my rights to challenge Doroga to the _juris macto_ for that accusation. As it was, I had no desire to do so. I could hardly deny it with a Marat chieftain accusing me. Who would know better than him, after all? And if I did deny it, who could say how he’d respond? Take back his cudgel and attack me? Refuse to aid us? We needed the Marat too badly to risk jeopardizing our new alliance. It seemed the time had come for me to admit to what I’d done. I looked down at my gold armbands and smiled. “It wasn’t difficult.”

          All of the conversations in the tent ceased abruptly; several gasps could be heard. Amara’s mouth hung open in surprise. If my admission of guilt made those who’d once been my enemies more willing to work with me, so much the better.

          Doroga acknowledged what I said with a nod and a grunt. “Lots of people died. Yours and mine.”

          “Yes,” I replied.

          “If there was time, you and I might have an argument about that.”

          “I fear the Vord will not give us much in the way of time.” We couldn’t afford to have any squabbles among our forces. I’d been working hard since Gaius’s death to hold us together as a united force and I would not have that unity undermined. Hopefully my public confession would be enough for Doroga.

          He nodded. “It is done. Dealing with the Vord is more important. But I will have your promise not to do any such thing in the future.”

          His request amused me—I could think of no reason to do such a thing again, especially now that I had the prize I’d sought for so long. “Yes. You have it.”

          Doroga extended a hand; I followed suit and we clasped forearms. “Thank you for your help today,” I said earnestly. “You saved the lives of many of my people.”

          “That is what good neighbors do,” Doroga replied. “Maybe no one ever taught you Alerans about that.”

          I thought of my own late and unlamented southern neighbor, Rhodes, and had to grin. I was beginning to like Doroga. “Entirely possible. I must ask you if any more of your people might be willing to help us.”

          “I have called. We will see who answers. But I and my clanmates are here. We will stand with you.”

          I nodded. “I welcome you.”

          “Be a fool not to,” said Doroga bluntly. “After this is done, you and I will talk about balancing scales.”

          “I would be pleased to discuss it.”

          Doroga’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Right. Good.”

          “We should begin, I think,” I said. Doroga nodded once to me, then left to stand with the Calderons. I looked out at the assembly and raised my voice to address them. “Citizens, Senators, Captains, if you would give me your attention, please. We will discuss the defense of the Valley. Our host, the rather farsighted Count Calderon, will describe his defensive structures to you.”

          Bernard looked at Amara and gestured to his jaw. “Ah,” she said. “Your highness, my husband has injured his jaw and will have difficulty speaking. With your permission, I will brief everyone about our defenses.”

          “By all means,” I replied, inclining my head toward her. She stepped up to the sand table and treated us to a detailed description of the fortifications, pointing them out as she went.

          “I’m curious,” Senator Valerius interrupted, “how a Count of the Realm managed to fund all of this construction—and then to conceal its presence, as well.” I rolled my eyes and wondered why exactly I’d invited him to this meeting. I didn’t give a damn that he was a highly-ranked Senator and one of my own Citizens—the man was insufferable.

          “With a great deal of support, sir,” Amara countered. “The sections of wall within sight of the causeway were raised only a few days ago. The rest went unobserved thanks to the generous use of camouflage to hide them from the view of fliers and the fact that few visitors to the Valley stray far from the causeway.”

          “It seems odd to me, that’s all,” Valerius continued. “Such a project must have cost you hundreds of thousands of golden eagles.”

          “Is there anything else, sir?” Amara asked, not showing the slightest sign of intimidation.

          “I find myself reluctant to trust your word, Countess—or the word of the Count who built these unauthorized and illegal fortifications…”

          “Oh bloody crows, man!” Raucus snarled. “What the crows does it matter where they came from as long as we have them at hand when we need them?”

          Valerius continued to blather on about the legality of the walls as if Raucus hadn’t spoken. I had to suppress the urge to cheer when Lord Placida grabbed him by the tunic and unceremoniously tossed him out of the tent. His bodyguards followed after Placida fixed them with a stare and pointed to the exit.

          “Ass,” Raucus muttered.

          “Thank you, Placida,” I murmured. “Countess, please continue.”

          She smiled at Placida, nodded to me, and resumed her speech. “We have been studying the potential defenses of the valley for some time. This is the plan we believe will best accomplish the goals the Princeps has specified.”

          The basic gist of my plan was this—we would use the first wall to slow down the Vord, buying us a bit of time to regroup and get the refugees settled into more permanent camps past Garrision. We had to get them as far from the front line as possible. Several Legions would be accompanying them, both for protection and to move into positions at the second wall and Garrision. There was no doubt in my mind that the first wall had no chance of holding the Vord at bay indefinitely. Better to make a final stand in the strongest position possible. The only way to win this war was to kill the Queen, and I held little hope that I’d be able to bait either her or Invidia into showing themselves again. I would have to think of some other way to get to them. I was certain that both of them were accompanying the Vord army. Killing both myself and Octavian had to be their top priorities. With us dead, the Aleran resistance would crumble.

          All of this discussion took quite some time. Many of those gathered had questions or suggestions, not all of them stupid, and so it was evening by the time I dismissed everyone. Once they were gone, I was free to enjoy my first full meal since the Battle of Riva began. The food shortage problem had been solved by the addition of the Calderons’ stores. Much to my delight, I was no longer forced to subsist on the simplest Legion rations to save food for those who needed it more. Now that we were no longer on the move, more than basic cooking was possible. With the air still damp and chilly from the rain, a hot meal was most welcome. The command group and I dined on salt pork with mashed parsnips and slices of flatbeard, washed down with cups of ale. After the last few days, it felt like a feast. It was very pleasant to go to bed with a full belly. That alone was enough to lift my spirits. I only hoped the Vord wouldn’t send them tumbling back down again tomorrow.


	5. The Message

          To anyone who would complain about sleeping on a camp cot, I suggest you try a wagon with no pillow, mattress, or blanket. After that, a cot will seem like the most luxurious bed imaginable. And so it was with my cot that first night in the Calderon Valley. It was a relief to settle into my bedroll and lie on something that wasn’t hard wood. I wasn’t as young as I once was and my back hadn’t appreciated lying on a hard surface three nights in a row.

          The first things I noticed upon waking were that the rain had stopped and I’d slept better than I had since Riva. I dressed in a clean tunic and pants, hoping fervently I’d have no reason to put on my armor today. All I needed was a bath and an eager lover to fulfill my remaining longings. With any luck, one of the forts along the wall would have a bath.

          Breakfast was a bowl of porridge and a few slices of bacon. It was a good and satisfying meal, though the porridge could’ve used a few spoonfuls of honey. I never said so out loud, of course, and I truly appreciated the meal, but I can’t help my excessive fondness for sweets. Once I was done eating, the first order of business was to hand my armor off to one of the master armorers. I feared it had acquired a few dents over the last couple of days and I wanted them fixed before I needed it again. I’d brought another suit with me when I first went off to war, but it had been left behind in Riva. I was stuck with this one for the duration.

          “There are a couple small dents,” said the armorer who’d been assigned to serve the command group. “Slept in it during the retreat?”

          “Unfortunately yes.”

          The armorer looked it over again before speaking. “I’ll take care of these dents and give it a good shine. Shouldn’t take too long.”

          “Very good. Your work is greatly appreciated.” With that bit of business seen to, I decided it was time for me to visit the wall and look over its defenses personally. I’d not have a chance yesterday with everything else going on. I quickly located Amara and she agreed to give me a tour. “I see your hand is back to normal,” I remarked, recalling the mysterious injury she had during the war meeting.

          “Yes, sire. Veradis took care of it for me.”

          “How did you injure it in the first place?” I’d been curious about that since I first noticed her favoring her hand.

          “I punched one of the Knights standing guard outside your tent in the jaw,” she said matter-of-factly. “He wouldn’t let Doroga enter.”

          I stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, I wish I could’ve seen that! Who was it, if I may ask?”

          “Rivus Ceregus. He dropped like a stone and stayed down,” she replied, with the barest hint of a smile on her face.

          “I’ll be sure to keep him far away from my tent in the future,” I assured her with a grin. “Riva will no doubt see it as some kind of personal slight, but I can handle him.”

          “He was friends with Kalarus Brencis Minoris. That’s really all you need to know,” said Amara.

          “Ah. Your point is well-made.” Everything I’d seen and heard of Kalarus Brencis Minoris, from witnessing his citizenship duel to hearing that he’d collaborated with the Vord to collar Citizens, convinced me that the cowardly slive was every bit his father’s son. Anyone who would call him a friend was automatically a poor judge of character.

          Amara and I flew together to the top of the wall. Standing at only ten feet tall, it was shorter than the standard height of twenty feet. The gate had been sealed behind us with earthcrafting, leaving no weak points in the wall. Fortifications were placed at intervals along its length. It was wide enough at the top for a carriage to pass through with some room to spare. “We are all greatly in debt to your husband for his foresight,” I told Amara as we stood together on the wall, gazing out at the landscape.

          “Well, we had to do something when the Senate refused to take our warnings about the Vord seriously,” she replied.

          “Bunch of pompous idiots.” I shook my head. “I heard about the Vord before all of this happened, from Invidia and the Windwolves after their respective encounters with them. I foolishly thought them vanquished.”

          “If only that had been true,” said Amara wistfully.

          “Indeed. Lately I’ve found myself wishing I’d done as you did and prepared Aquitaine to face the Vord threat. It was the least I could’ve done, if the rest of the realm refused to listen.” I sighed and turned my gaze to the south, toward my city. “I wish I knew what was going on. Last I heard, they were holding the Vord at bay, though there’d been fighting at the gates. If only I could get a watersending through…” I let my voice trail off as I thought of home. All I could do was hope the defenses and forces I’d left in place would be enough to hold until we brought an end to this horrific war. With me gone, there was no one who could unleash the Great Furies of the city on the Vord if it was taken.

          Amara looked at me as though she was suddenly seeing me in a new light. I supposed she probably was. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “it must be difficult, being unable to help your city or even communicate with it.”

          “Yes.” We stood in silence for a moment, then I turned to face her. “Would you be so kind as to show me the inside of the fortifications? And dare I hope they have baths?”

          “They do. Right this way, sire.”

          After touring the forts, I dismissed Amara and headed to the baths. They were much smaller and less extensive than what I was accustomed to at home, but they were more than sufficient for my needs. I heated the water with firecrafting until it was warm, then took off my clothes and stepped in. I closed my eyes and sighed in contentment. The warm water felt wonderful after the chill of the last few days. I remained like that for several minutes, soaking, before oiling myself and scraping off the accumulated sweat and grime of the last few days. My hair was also badly in need of washing. When I was done, I felt like myself again. It was truly amazing how a single bath could do such a thing. My hair, which had spent the last few days wet and limp, was now restored to its usual state of fullness. Septimus always used to say it reminded him of a lion’s mane. I was inclined to agree with that description.

          If left to my own devices, I’d have lingered much longer in the bath. However, I could not justify such indulgence in a situation like this. Once I was clean, I left the baths and returned to the top of the wall. Several _legionares_ and officers offered quick salutes and rushed past me, already at work readying the defenses. We’d managed to outrun the Vord during the last desperate stage of the retreat and none of them could be seen on the horizon, even with sightcrafting. I wondered what was keeping them. _Octavian, it has to be Octavian._ He had to be occupying the Queen's attention, that was the only explanation. If he was the man I judged him to be, he was far too great a threat for the Queen to ignore completely in favor of pressing the attack on us. I wondered where he was and what he was doing, if he’d inflicted any significant losses on the Vord. Had he managed to kill Invidia? I was certain he hadn’t killed the Queen—we’d have surely seen wild Vord running amok if he had. If only I could communicate directly with him! It would make everything so much easier. I’d have to trust in Ehren’s assurance that he’d discern my intentions and plan accordingly.

          Most of the day was spent working out logistics. Legions were moved to positions along the wall while the first groups of refugees set out for the camps around Garrison. When that was done, I had a bit of free time before dinner. “How far away is the Princeps’ Memorium?” I asked Amara.

          “It’s only a short ride from here.” She looked at me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

          “Because I’d like to visit it while I’m here.” After obtaining more detailed directions, I rode off to the final resting place of Gaius Septimus with a handful of _singulares_ to accompany me.

          The Valley was really quite beautiful. I’d been completely unable to appreciate it during my last visit, as I’d been entirely focused on reaching Septimus in time. As I rode, the landscape became vaguely familiar. The last time I’d seen it, it had been covered with the bodies of dead Alerans and Marat. I’d arrived too late. The Crown Legion had been wiped out, and Septimus was _gone_.

          The Memorium rose up before me, sunlight glinting off its crystal dome. I’d seen Gaius erect it, on the spot where Septimus had fallen with his _singulares_ slain around him. “Wait here,” I instructed my _singulares_. “I need to be alone for this. Alert me if we come under attack or there is some other emergency.” I stepped over the threshold and shut the door firmly behind me.

          The interior was largely unchanged. The statues of the _singulares_ still kept silent watch over Septimus’s tomb. The trees still grew around the pool, branches heavy with fruit. The pool itself was so still it might’ve been mistaken for glass. Time itself seemed to stop here. You could stay inside for what you thought was a few minutes, only to emerge and realize an hour had passed. Everything about it radiated peace and sanctuary. One could almost forget about the Vord in here.

          In the center of the pool was Septimus’s tomb.

          I crossed the pool in a single leap. The tomb was exactly as I remembered it. The likeness of Septimus carved onto it was so realistic it was almost like seeing him alive again. His expression was serene, as if he were simply resting here in peaceful repose. The image of how he looked when they found him after the battle came to mind unbidden; I would’ve liked nothing more than to forget it entirely. But I knew well that was a hopeless wish. The horrible condition of his body was the reason for this Memorium’s existence, why he’d not been taken back to the capital and given a state funeral. At the time I’d been furious at Gaius for what seemed a insult to Septimus from the father he’d never gotten on with. It was bad enough that Gaius had failed to protect him—now he insulted his memory too. That part of my rage subsided once I’d entered the Memorium for the first time. I came to realize that it was a far more appropriate resting place for him than anywhere in Alera Imperia. Septimus hated the constant scheming and backstabbing of the capital. Here, he was far from that.

          I remained at the tomb for some time, staring at Septimus’s marble face. It occurred to me that I should say something, but no words were forthcoming. Should I tell him that two of those responsible for his death were dead? Or talk to him as if he were still alive? Neither of those felt quite right, so I remained in silence.

          My hand immediately went to the hilt of my sword when I heard the doors open. I spun around to see Raucus standing there. “I heard you’d come here.”

          Anger flared in me at the intrusion, then dissipated quickly. “I had to.”

          Raucus took a step forward and surveyed the Memorium. “I’ve never been here before. Nice place, I’ll give the old bastard that.”

          There was no need to ask who he was referring to. “I raged at Gaius when he first built it. I thought it was an insult and Sep should’ve been laid to rest in Alera Imperia.”

          “Sep hated the capital.”

          “I know. I realized later that this really is a more appropriate place for him.”

          Silence followed as Raucus continued to take in the room. He moved in a circle, spending time at each of the monuments to the fallen _singulares_. Raucus had known each of them, just as I had. “Do you have any messages for me?” I inquired.

          He started, apparently having forgotten I was there, then joined me beside the tomb. “I wanted to see this place for myself and I thought maybe you could use some company.”

          “I didn’t want any, but I admit it’s good to have you here.”

          Raucus looked down at the tomb. “Good likeness of him.” He paused, studying the tomb intently. “Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.”

          “No,” I murmured, “it’s not enough.”

          We stood in silence for a few more minutes, gazing down at Septimus’s youthful face frozen forever in marble. It was Raucus who finally broke the silence. “I showed Isana your letter.”

          “Letter?” I hadn’t the faintest idea what letter he could possibly be referring to.

          “The one you wrote me after Septimus died,” he elaborated, “where you told me that he’d been murdered.”

          “Ah. That letter.” Once I’d recovered enough from the horror of Septimus’s death and was able to think coherently, I wrote to Raucus so he’d know the truth of what happened. It was also the moment when I’d severed ties with him. I knew I couldn’t ask him to follow me down the road I’d chosen to walk.

          “I wanted her to understand why I didn’t trust her initially. She might’ve been one of the bloody crowbegotten bastards who killed him,” Raucus explained.

          “I might’ve wondered the same thing, had I not become acquainted with her during her association with Invidia. There’s none of that sort of deceit in her.” With his admission about the letter, my mind drifted back to my conversation with Isana after the destruction of Alera Imperia. I was curious about how she’d known that Septimus and I had been best friends and assumed he’d mentioned me to her at some point. She’d brought up our friendship in the hopes I’d support Octavian…

          My eyes went wide as a sudden burst of inspiration came to me. “I think I know how to contact Octavian.”

          Raucus stared at me in disbelief. “ _What?_ They’ve cut off our watersending capabilities. If you try to get one through to him, they’ll cut you off before you can get a bloody word out.”

          “Not if I only make it one-way. That’s how Octavian did it when he made that inspirational speech announcing his arrival, and he must’ve used his powers as Princeps to project it to every damn body of water in Alera. Well I’m the other Princeps and that power is mine too,” I declared vehemently.

          Raucus eyed me warily. “Are you sure about this, Attis?”

          “Yes. I mean to get a message through not just to Octavian, but to all of Alera. Those trapped behind enemy lines and fighting in the cities may well have heard of the defeat at Riva. They need to know that we’re still fighting.”

          “And what are you going to tell Octavian? If you project this to the whole country, the Queen and Invidia will see it too,” he observed.

          “I’m certain the Vord haven’t attacked us yet because he’s making trouble in their rear. I mean to tell him to keep doing whatever he’s been doing.”

          “But you don’t know what he’s doing,” Raucus pointed out.

          “Of course I don’t. I don’t need to know the specifics to figure out that he’s doing _something_. Why do you think the Vord haven’t attacked us since yesterday morning? Because they love a fair contest and want to give us a sporting chance?” I countered, suppressing a grin. Raucus’s tendency to point out the obvious was oddly refreshing in the midst of all this. “He has to be diverting the Queen’s attention somehow. Either that or she’s cooking up a nasty surprise for the final push. I’m fervently hoping it’s the former.”

          Raucus studied me for a moment, then nodded. “I take your meaning.”

          I turned away from the tomb and looked down at the pool. “I think this is the perfect place to do it. There are strong furies here. I’m sure that was intentional on Gaius’s part.”

          “I feel them too.” Raucus leaped over the pool and landed gracefully on the other side. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be waiting by the door.”

          I watched him take up position at the entrance, then took a couple steps to the edge of the island. I knelt down and took a deep breath. Never before had I attempted a watersending on this scale. My hand went to the eagle pin holding my cloak in place. I was sure the local furies would accept me by virtue of the adoption, but surely a bit of visual confirmation would help. It didn’t take long. My water furies were there at my call and the other furies weren’t far behind them. I suppose I could’ve tried to claim them, but it felt wrong to take furies from Septimus’s Memorium. I only wanted to use them to augment my own strength for this.

          I gasped as a surge of power flowed into my body—they accepted me. It was an exhilarating feeling and my entire body seemed to tingle with it. I took another deep breath and stared into the pool. I’d only done this once before, at the seat of my power when I first became High Lord of Aquitaine. It had been much easier then, as I was only projecting my power into Aquitaine rather than the whole country. I thought of Alera, of its rivers and streams, its ponds and lakes, even the puddles left behind by the recent rain. I closed my eyes, visualizing my power flowing out to every one of them. Slowly, gradually, I felt it spread out from the pool and into the very lifeblood of Alera itself. _Great Furies, let Octavian be near water._

          I opened my eyes and stood. Looking up at me from the pool was my own image. It was a perfect reflection, much clearer than any normal water reflection would be. This was what everyone who happened to be near water was currently seeing. I took a moment to study it. I looked much better than I had in days, but the stress of the war was clearly taking its toll. A few slight signs of aging had made their appearance through my watercrafted façade of youth, much to my annoyance. Dark circles were also prominent under my eyes. At least I still mostly looked as if I were no older than my early twenties. I waited a few more minutes for people to notice I was there before speaking. “Greetings, Alerans,” I began in a calm, clear voice. I’d gotten excellent marks in rhetoric and oration during my Academy days and now was the time to put those skills to good use. “This is Gaius Aquitainus Attis and I’ve come to address you now as a Princeps of the Realm in my own visage and voice. I come bearing a message of hope.

          “Some of you have no doubt heard of the recent battle at Riva. You may have heard that my forces were defeated and forced to flee the city. You have heard correctly.” I paused a moment to let the words sink in. “We have suffered a defeat and taken many losses. The Vord have beaten and battered us, it is true. But know this, Alerans! We are not broken! We may have been beaten, but we will rise again!” I all but shouted the last lines and my voice seemed to fill the Memorium. It had excellent acoustics. “Throughout our history, many foes have sought our destruction and every time they have failed. Nothing now remains of those foes but stories. Our people have never given into defeat and despair and we must not do so now, though the enemy’s might may seem overwhelming.

          “My forces have retreated to the Calderon Valley, where we intend to face the Vord in one final battle. The very survival of our nation, of indeed all non-Vord life on the face of Carna, depends on the outcome of this contest. I am prepared to fight to my last breath in defense of this realm and its people, as are all of those gathered here with me.

          “There is little else I can say that my brother Gaius Octavian did not already say when he addressed you. I remind you to take heart from his words and remember that hope is not lost. To those of you in the cities, I bid you to hold fast for as long as you can. We will do the same here. I encourage any Alerans able to do so to seek out my brother’s army and aid him in whatever ways you are able. We are Alerans, and we will endure!”

          I dropped most of the connections then and honed in on Octavian’s. It was not difficult to sense him—his presence was achingly familiar. Here in the Memorium, I could hear the words Septimus had spoken in my dream resounding in my head: _my son, Attis_.

          _Furies, he looks so much like his father._

          “Octavian,” I greeted him with a grin, “keep up the good work!” The last word was barely out of my mouth before I cut the connection. I couldn’t risk the Queen or Invidia intercepting us. I hoped I’d guessed correctly regarding his activities, otherwise my message would make no sense. But it was the best I could do in the circumstances.

          The sound of clapping jolted me out of my thoughts. “Well done,” said Raucus with a grin.

          I leaped over the pool and walked up to him. “Our old oration Maestro would be pleased to know his lessons have been put to good use.”

          Much to my surprise, he put an arm around my shoulders. “Sep would’ve been proud of you.”

          “You really think so?”

          Raucus met my eyes and nodded. “Wouldn’t say so if I didn’t mean it.”

          “To be fully honest with you, I’ve often wished Sep were here. The realm needs someone like him right now,” I admitted.

          A thoughtful expression came across Raucus’s face. He studied me for a few moments before speaking again. “You’ve changed so much since the old days.”

          “You haven’t,” I quipped.

          He chuckled, then became thoughtful once again. “You know, I thought you’d turned into one of those overly ambitious, scheming High Lords you used to rail against. Seemed to me like there wasn’t much left of the Attis I used to be proud to call my friend.”

          My eyes widened as I took a moment to process his words. If he’d said that to me a year ago, I’d have denied it outright. But now… I was slowly beginning to realize there might be some truth in what he said. Spending an extended period of time away from Invidia was proving to be a breath of fresh air. She’d come into my life when I was at my most vulnerable after Septimus’s death and influenced me in ways I’d only now begun to see. “I think… you may be right about that, Raucus.”

          He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You might’ve changed a lot over these long years, but I can see there’s still some of the old Attis left in you. I saw it during the retreat and again a few minutes ago. You were a good man, once. You could be that man again.”

          My mind had difficulty forming any kind of response to his words. How did you respond to something like that? I’d come a long way from the idealistic and hopeful youth I’d once been. Things could never be exactly as they’d been before Septimus’s death. “The Attis you knew died with Septimus. I can no more resurrect him in his entirety than I could Sep,” I managed to say. “But… he’s not gone from me completely.”

          Raucus gave a very slight nod. “Just think about what I said.” He gave my shoulder another firm squeeze and stepped through the doors.

 

 

**Notes**

 

Baths- The bathing scene was based off of Roman bathing practices. Yes, they really did use olive oil to clean themselves instead of soap. It also happens to make for great fanservice!


	6. Night Companions

          Raucus and I rode together back to the camp, my _singulares_ beside us. Neither of us spoke, the weight of our conversation in the Memorium hanging heavy between us. What exactly did you say after something like that? I’d been quite unprepared for what he’d said to me. It had unearthed thoughts and feelings I’d kept buried and suppressed for years. I knew I’d changed a great deal since Septimus’s death, but I hadn’t quite grasped the full scope of those changes. Had I really become what I despised? Were Kalarus and I truly more alike than different?

          _No,_ I assured myself. _I am not a monster like he was._

          _Maybe not, but you were just as willing to use violence to achieve your goals,_ said a faint voice I dimly recognized as my conscience. It seemed to be growing louder lately after being quiet for years. Twenty years of marriage to Invidia had taught me to suppress it. She had no conscience whatsoever and knew well how to lead others astray. I shook my head slightly as we came within sight of the camp. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by these conflicted feelings when I was needed to command. If there was time, I would sort through them later.

          Arriving back at camp, I immediately turned my attention to command duties. This time I attracted even more attention than usual. Numerous people, from High Lords to _legionares_ and civilians, looked at me with something like awe. They’d heard my message and it left an impression on them. “How did you do that?” Aria asked me during dinner.

          “The same way Octavian did, I suspect. I am as much a Princeps as he is, by adoption if not by blood. The furies of Alera recognized me as such—they are strong, in the Princeps’ Memorium.”

          Her eyebrows rose. “You were at the Memorium?”

          “Yes,” I answered quietly. “I felt the need to pay my respects to Septimus.”

          “I see. Your message was well-delivered and sorely-needed right now. It’s given the people the strength to keep fighting,” said Aria.

          “Thank you. It was my wish that it might do so. I know I can’t give them the hope Octavian did with his speech, but I had to do something. I wanted the rest of Alera to know we’re still fighting.”

          The war preparations continued after dinner. Legions began to take up positions on the wall while others moved forward to provide backup. It was not a large force, just enough to accomplish my goal of holding the wall long enough to slow down the Vord and give the refugees time to evacuate. We’d decided that the freshest Legions would not be expended in a stalling action. Instead, those at low and middling strength would be used. I wanted the freshest troops to be available when we made our final stand. The Legions moved into position with their trademark efficiency. I did not expect the Vord to give us another day of reprieve, even if Octavian attacked them. We had to be ready.

          To that effect, I chose to make another stop before retiring for the night. I strode into the camp of my own First Aquitaine, which wasn’t one of the Legions assigned to the first wall. The men broke into cheers as soon as they saw me. These were my men, loyal to me. I’d fought side-by-side with them against Kalarus and in every battle of the Vord War so far. I knew this Legion best of all those gathered here, but I wasn’t here to see them. I rode through the camp, exchanging greetings with the men, then made for a familiar pavilion just outside the perimeter. Camp followers weren’t permitted inside Legion camps, but no one had any objections to them being present outside the camp borders. I lifted the tent flap and stepped inside.

          A stout woman in her sixties rose from a camp stool to greet me. “Your highness! It is always a pleasure to see you.”

          I acknowledged her with a nod. “Nydia. I’m pleased to see you made it out of Riva intact. I trust the others did as well?”

          Her expression turned somber for a moment. “Most of them.”

          “Is Laelia among them? I was hoping to enjoy her company this evening.”

          “She’s here, and currently unoccupied.”

          I smiled. “Excellent.” Nydia left for a moment to fetch Laelia. The sounds of lovemaking could be heard quite clearly from the depths of the pavilion. I wasn’t surprised. If there was one thing _legionares_ always wanted on the eve of battle, it was company in bed. It wasn’t long before Nydia returned with Laelia. She was a far cry from how she’d looked when I last saw her at Riva—her auburn hair was disheveled and the hem of her dress muddied. Despite this, she beamed when she saw me.

          “Your highness!” she exclaimed. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you.”

          I smiled at her and took a step forward. “I’d like a bit of company tonight,” I purred. Seduction was hardly needed with her, but I couldn’t help it. It had been too long and I was hungry. I held out a hand. “Come. Let’s retire to my tent.”

          She took my extended hand. “Lead the way.”

          It was a well-known fact that every Legion had its own camp followers. Many of them were as much fixtures as the Legion’s officers. Nydia was one such follower—she’d run a brothel for the First Aquitaine for as long as I could remember. I’d first encountered her during my mandatory term of service and it lifted my spirits to see her alive and unharmed. As for Laelia, I’d made her acquaintance during the campaign against Kalarus. She’d been one of the two women who’d kept me company during that arduous slog. More recently, she’d warmed my bed several times since the Vord War began. She was, aside from being good company in bed, a delightfully cheerful girl. A little cheering up was just what I needed right now. If the Vord attacked tomorrow, I wanted to bed someone one more time in case I fell in battle.

          I led her inside the tent. My private living area, where my cot and personal belongings were, was divided from the rest of the tent by a curtain. I pushed it aside and beckoned Laelia forward. The area was illuminated only by a single furylamp, which cast a red glow over everything. I sat on the cot and looked her over from head to toe. She’d lost a bit of weight since I’d last seen her, no doubt due to scant rations on the retreat, and her feet were dirty. I liked my lovers clean. “Would you like to wash yourself before we begin?” Nydia prided herself on keeping her girls clean, but tubs were currently scarce. “You can use my basin.” Flavius had just filled it with fresh water for me.

          Her face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you, your highness!” The basin was obviously insufficient for a bath, but it was good for washing face, hands, and feet. I unbuckled my swordbelt and laid it aside as I watched Laelia undo first her sandals, then the pins holding her dress in place at the shoulders. Though I’d seen her nude many times before, the sight was still enough to heat my blood. Her breasts were round and full; her hips shapely. I watched intently as she washed first her face, then her arms and feet. Once she was done, I sent my wind furies at her to dry her off. Not that the sight of drops of water sliding between her breasts wasn’t an appealing one, but I preferred not to get my cot wet.

          Laelia sauntered over to me, hips swaying with every step. The sight inflamed me with lust. As soon as she was in reach, I pulled her into my arms and kissed her hard. It wasn’t long before I had her beneath the blankets. She wrapped her firm legs around me as I thrust into her. There was no art to the encounter, just a fierce need I burned to fill. “Ah, yes,” I moaned when I reached my climax, “I needed this.”

          “I can see that,” she said once her own climax had passed. “I suppose being Princeps during a time like this doesn’t leave much time for fun.”

          “No, it does not. I have to take advantage when such opportunities present themselves.” I punctuated my words by turning her onto her stomach and entering her from behind. One of my hands came to rest in her hair while the other gripped her hip tightly. Laelia had a habit of moaning loudly, which I knew well wasn’t feigned with me. She did so now, making me thrust harder.

          When we were done we lay pressed together, the narrow cot not providing any room to sprawl. “Stay the night with me,” I murmured, resting my head on her breasts. “I’ve been craving the feeling of a soft woman beneath me.”

          “I’d be happy to,” she replied. “It’s always good to spend time with you.”

          “The feeling is mutual.” I shifted slightly to kiss the space between her breasts, then settled myself on them once more. “Much better than the hard boards of a wagon.”

          “You slept in a wagon without any kind of bedroll?”

          “Yes. It was not an experience I hope to repeat any time soon.”

          “I didn’t know the Princeps slept the same way I did. The other girls and I took turns sleeping in the wagon carrying the pavilion. It wasn’t covered,” said Laelia.

          “The retreat was unpleasant for everyone, I think,” I replied. “Either way, this will all be decided soon.”

          I felt her tense beneath me. “Do you really think… we’re all going to die?” She said it in the way a child would seek reassurance from its parents that its nightmares weren’t real. Unfortunately, this particular nightmare was all _too_ real.

          I was silent for a moment as I pondered what to say to her. There seemed little point in giving her false optimism or outright lying about the situation. If anyone could find a ray of hope in this, it was Laelia. “There is a very good chance that many more people will die,” I said softly. “We’ve started evacuating the refugees to safer camps beyond Garrison, but there’s only one way to end this war. Unless we kill the Vord Queen, they will keep attacking until everyone is dead.”

          “But what about all the other Vord?”

          “We can deal with them. Without the Queen to control them, they’re just animals.” It was utterly strange, discussing the Vord with a bedmate.

          “And you’ll try to kill her yourself?”

          “Myself and the other High Lords will try, yes,” I replied. “We have to.” I lifted a hand to stroke her cheek gently. “Just… try to focus on that, Laelia. You are normally so cheerful and we could all use a bit of cheer right now.”

          “I’ll try, I promise.” After that, it wasn’t long before she fell asleep. I lay awake for a little while longer, listening to the sound of her breathing, until sleep finally claimed me.

 

**

 

          _“The Calderon Valley? Why is he sending you to the back end of nowhere?”_

_“He said it’s to give me somewhere to recover in peace and relative secrecy, away from prying eyes.” Septimus threw up his arms in frustration. “I tried to reason with him, but he never listens! If I stay in the capital, it’ll be a statement of defiance. I want to dare them to come after me again!”_

_“Do you have any idea of who’s responsible?” I asked._

_“No proof yet, but I have my suspicions.”_

_It wasn’t difficult to guess who the top suspects were. “Kalarus. Rhodes.” My lip curled in disgust. “Pathetic, cowardly slives.”_

_Septimus nodded. “I intend to send some agents to gather the evidence I need to accuse them. Father won’t do anything about it, so I’ll take matters into my own hands.”_

_“How long will you be gone?”_

_“As long as it takes me to heal completely, provided some new problem doesn’t arise,” he replied._

_  
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” I met his eyes. “I wish you weren’t going away again.”_

_“Well you can take comfort knowing I’m not going by choice!” said Septimus with a laugh._

_“I wish I could come with you, but there’s no way Father will let me leave the First Aquitaine for such a length of time.” I sighed. “If only he’d let me serve with you in the_ _Crown Legion!” When the time had come for me to serve out my mandatory term in the Legions, I’d begged my father to let me join the Crown Legion with Septimus. It did no good—Father was adamant that I serve my term with the First Aquitaine._ “A High Lord must know his own Legions,” _he’d argued._ “It is not a matter for debate.” _I tried everything I could think of to get him to change his mind, even going so far as to ask my mother to talk to him. Unfortunately, she was in total agreement with him on the matter. In the end Septimus had gone off to fight in real battles while I was stuck dealing with the occasional small disturbance at home. “If I’d been at your side at Seven Hills, maybe you wouldn’t…”_

_Septimus raised a hand and I fell silent. “Attis, you can’t keep guilting yourself like this. No one can know what would’ve happened. For all we know, they might’ve hurt you too.”_

_I knew he was right, but I couldn’t help pondering the possibilities anyway. “You’re right—it’s pointless to speculate. It’s the product of a mind with too little stimulation. Life with the First Aquitaine has failed to prove exciting. Is your foresight telling you anything about the Calderon Valley, say if you’ll be in danger there?” Everyone who knew Septimus well was aware of his occasional bouts of foresight._

          _“Nothing yet,” he replied, “but somehow I can’t imagine assassins lurking all the way out there. And if they are, my_ singulares _will be with me.”_

_The reassurance offered by his words made me relax slightly. “Good. Rari alone is practically a one-man Legion.”_

_“And at least it’s a change of scenery,” said Septimus. “A Princeps should travel his realm so he can know it better.”_

_I sighed wistfully. “I wish I could do that. You know how my father is—he likes to keep me close.” It was the one thing we argued about, until my marriage anyway. My lack of siblings meant that I had to be protected. I was allowed to travel around our province, but even then I was forbidden from going near the Feverthorn Jungle, which he deemed too dangerous. Being an only child was a trait I shared with Septimus—it was one of the reasons we were so close. “I’ll visit you in the Valley as soon as I can. He won’t deny me that.”_

_Septimus smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.” He laid a hand on my arm. “I’ve missed you so much. You’re my best friend in all the world. Without you and Raucus, I’d have lost my mind over these last months.”_

_I looked into the depths of his green eyes, finding myself at a loss for words. How could I express how I felt about him? Mere words seemed inadequate. I eventually settled on, “I feel the same way about you, Sep.”_

_He responded by pulling me into a tight embrace, then releasing me. “Don’t overindulge in women, wine, and sweets while I’m gone. We’ll see each other again soon.”_

_That was the last time I saw him alive._

          My eyes flew open as I woke with a start. It was no surprise that I should dream of Septimus after spending time in his Memorium. I only wished my subconscious mind would stop dredging up these memories at a time when I needed to be focused on fighting the Vord. The dream had been so realistic it took me a moment to remember where I was: in my command tent in the Calderon Valley and the lovely breasts my head currently rested on belonged to Laelia.

          The Vord would likely attack today.

          “Your highness?” Laelia’s voice cut through the fog in my head. “Are you well? You were moaning in your sleep, and it wasn’t the good kind of moaning.”

          I raised my head a little. “I had an… upsetting dream.”

          “A nightmare? Was it about the Vord?”

          “No. It was about…” I wasn’t prepared to speak about Septimus with her, at least not this early in the morning, “my best friend. He died many years ago, at First Calderon.”

          “Oh. I’m very sorry for your loss.” She began to stroke my hair gently; the sensation was very pleasant and I closed my eyes in contentment. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

          It was early in the morning and I still had some time before I needed to be out of bed. I lifted my head and looked down at her. “I can think of something.” My lips met hers as I slid a hand between her legs. She was just as eager as she’d been the night before and I took my time, savoring the sensations of pleasure and the sweet release when it came.

          I moved off of her once we’d finished, the last craving I’d had during the retreat now well-satiated. If I fell against the Vord in the coming days, at least I’d die mostly satisfied. I sat up, stretched, and walked over to the trunk where I kept my personal funds. I counted out her fee. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “I can’t imagine you’ll find anything to spend it on, but I’ll not have you leave empty-handed.”

          Laelia pulled on her dress and sandals, then took the money. “I was going to give you this one for free, no matter what Nydia’d say, but I never turn down money.”

          I began pulling on some clean clothes. “It is likely you’ll not see me after this.”

          “Because of the war?”

          “Yes, and you’ll soon be evacuated. You may be camp followers, but you’re non-combatants and it’s too dangerous for you to stay here. The first groups of refugees have already begun moving to Garrison,” I explained.

          She stared at me for a moment and I thought she might protest, but instead she nodded. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

          I kissed her softly. “Just try your best to keep your spirits up. It’ll help the others.”

          She nodded. “I will.” After she left, I washed my face and donned my circlet. My armor hung on its rack, all dents and signs of battle gone, shining as if it were new. As sick as I was of wearing it, it was encouraging to see it thus improved. Flavius entered a moment later and began helping me into my armor. It was best to be prepared for the attack I was certain would come today. Even if Octavian acted on my message and kept up the pressure on their rear, the Queen couldn’t afford to leave us alone to regroup. She certainly had the forces to attack both of us simultaneously. Once my armor was on, I buckled my swordbelt around my waist and adjusted it so my gladius and longsword hung at my sides. I preferred a duelist’s longsword generally, as it was better-suited to my height, but I could use a gladius just as well. After they were situated comfortably, I slid my signet dagger into its sheath beside my gladius. As a final touch, I took up a sharp knife and slid it into my boot. There was no way I was going to face the Vord and possibly Invidia as anything less than armed to the teeth. The familiar weight of the weapons at my side was reassuring. _Let the Vord come. I am ready._


	7. A Warm Welcome

          I made a few adjustments to my armor, loosening or tightening straps here and there. Once it was to my satisfaction, I pinned my red cloak around my shoulders. My gaze then came to rest on a long box beside my armor rack. I opened it and removed my bow and a quiver full of arrows. I’d not yet used them in this war, nor had I used them in the war against Kalarus. Still, I always made sure to keep them handy if an occasion arose when I did need them. The quiver was brimming with arrows. Many were the usual steel-tipped variety used by Alerans, but others were stone-tipped after the Marat fashion for use against metalcrafters. I had several salt-tipped arrows as well. After hearing of how Count Bernard felled Kalarus with such an arrow, I had some made for myself. They’d be useful against enslaved Knights Aeris or Invidia. Slinging the bow and quiver over my shoulder, I strode out into the main room of the tent.

          Ehren was waiting for me. “Good morning, sire. I have something to report.”

          “Very well. Report.”

          “Our fliers have spotted a column of Vord heading for us.”

          I nodded. “Just as I expected. Two days was too much of a reprieve to hope for.”

          Ehren suddenly seemed to notice I was already in my armor. He raised an eyebrow as he took in how heavily armed I was. “You’re well-armed.”

          “Necessary. This will be the final battle, one way or another, and I intend to fight with every weapon available to me. Have any Vordknights made an appearance?”

          “None have been sighted as of my last update.”

          “Hopefully the bloody things won’t show up for a little while yet. How far away is the Vord advance?”

          “The scouts who spotted them estimated they were a couple hours’ march away.”

          “A whole day’s march would be better, but I’ll take what I can get.” It was indeed a good thing we’d moved the Legions into position on the wall yesterday. “Any other news?”

          “The evacuation is proceeding as planned.”

          “Good. I want you to inform the other members of the command group that the enemy will soon be upon us and tell them to assemble at the wall. I will meet them there.” Ehren saluted and left swiftly to carry out my order. I followed soon after, making directly for the nearest tower. It was located right in the center of the wall’s north-south axis, making it the perfect spot for my command station. The first thing I did was alert the Legion captains that an attack was eminent. They immediately began maneuvering the Legions into position according to the battle plans we’d discussed. I took up position on the tower’s battlements and looked out over the landscape. It was still and quiet, as if the land itself were holding its breath in anticipation of the battle. This would be it. If we couldn’t find a way to kill the Queen and thus defeat the Vord, we would be wiped out. There was nowhere left to run. The Queen and Invidia had to know that and they would surely hit us with everything they had. Like as not, they’d be aiming for me in particular. Invidia certainly would, to pay me back for burning her and also for her general hatred of me.

          Yet despite the extremely high stakes, I found that I was quite calm, calmer than I’d been before any of the other battles. It was very important for a commander to always appear calm in front of his men, even if he didn’t actually feel calm himself. This was different. There was no acting involved. Something deep inside assured me that this battle wouldn’t be like the others. One should never underestimate men who are fighting for their very lives. There was no greater motivation than that. But more importantly, this time we would fight in a place that had been specifically readied to fight the Vord. None of the cities had that advantage. I did what I could to prepare Riva for battle, but the simple fact remained that it was a city, with all the weaknesses that came with that. There was a civilian population that had to be protected, a weak point the Queen had ruthlessly exploited when she sent feral furies at the city. Here, the refugees were even now being evacuated.

          This time, we were ready.

          The rest of the command group arrived promptly. Once they were all present, I addressed them. “As you have been informed, the Vord will be upon us soon. I’d like to remind you that the main use of this wall will be to slow down the Vord advance and keep them occupied while the refugees are evacuated. There is no chance that it will hold for an extended period of time.” I gestured to Bernard, who stepped forward. “The Count Calderon knows his defenses best. I hereby name him my second in command and I expect all of you to defer to him. I will do the same in these matters.”

          The others nodded. I didn’t expect anyone to argue with the situation so dire and was glad when they didn’t. “The main command group consisting of myself, Count and Countess Calderon, and Riva will remain here, equidistant from both ends of the wall. Sir Ehren, what is the enemy’s angle of approach?”

          “Southwest, sire. They’re using the causeway.”

          “Thank you, Ehren.” I turned to the other High Lords. “I want the rest of you to spread out along the wall.” I proceeded to give them more detailed orders to this effect, then faced Raucus, Phrygia, and the Placidas. “The four of you will take up position at the southern end of the wall. Ehren, you will go with them and relay messages at need.” My gaze drifted over to the rest of the command group. “Ladies, gentlemen, you have your orders. I will look over the southern defenses, then take up my position here.” A small smile crept onto my face. “Let’s show the Vord that we are far from beaten!”

          A cheer rose at that, followed by several salutes as they left to take their positions. I joined Raucus, Phrygia, and the Placidas as they flew to the southern fortifications. Below us, _legionares_ continued to move into battle formations. Above us, flocks of crows circled overhead in anticipation of the battle to come. The next hour or so was spent looking over the southern defenses and making sure enough _legionares_ were in place to take the brunt of the Vord attack. If they were going to hit us here first, I wanted the strongest High Lords there to meet them.

          “There’s a dent in it somewhere,” Raucus growled, fidgeting with his right shoulder strap. “It isn’t moving right.”

          “Should’ve gotten it looked at by an armorer. That’s what I did,” I remarked. Raucus made no response other than to glare at me.

          “You’re imagining things,” Phrygia cut in. “There’s no bloody dent.”

          “Well, something’s not right.”

          “Yes,” said Lord Placida in the same tone one would use to explain things to a child. “You slept in it again. You aren’t young enough to keep doing that, Raucus. You’ve injured your shoulder joint, likely.”

          “I’m young enough to toss your short ass right off this wall. We’ll see whose joint gets injured,” Raucus retorted.

          I tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Beside me, Ehren was grinning. “Boys, boys,” Aria began, sounding like an exasperated mother, “please don’t set a bad example for the other children.”

          “Oh, I’d say a bit of mirth is just what we need on a day like today,” I replied. Despite my words, a more somber mood settled over us as the reality of what we were about to face sank in. We all knew that even if we won this battle, not all of us would survive it. A flaming signal arrow streaked across the sky. The Vord had been sighted.

          “Well, there it is,” Raucus observed.

          “Brilliant last words,” Phrygia replied. “We’ll put them on your Memorium. Right next to, ‘He died stating the obvious.’”

          I couldn’t help but laugh. “High Lord Obvious, the slow-witted northern snowcrow,” I said with a grin. Slow-witted northern snowcrow had been my nickname for Raucus back at the Academy. I’d initially meant it in a disparaging way, but it came to be an affectionate nickname after Septimus and I befriended him. He glared at me, but the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile.

          “Ah, it begins,” said Placida.

          “See? Sandos knows how to go out with style,” Phrygia retorted.

          “You want to go out with style, I’ll strangle you with your best silk tunic,” Raucus growled. Everyone laughed at that.

          “You all know what you must do once the fires start. I’m afraid I must return to the command group now,” I informed them once I’d recovered, “but before I go I’d like to let all of you know that it has been an honor fighting beside each one of you.”

          “The same,” said Aria. “I saw how hard you worked to keep everyone together during the retreat. You’ve earned my respect, despite what you did in the past. I’ll try to keep the children here from fighting each other instead of the Vord. Good luck, Attis.”

          “Thank you, Aria. The same to you.” I turned to Raucus then. “It’s been so good to see you again, old friend. There’s no one else I’d rather have here with me at the end of the world.”

          He smiled and put an arm around me, as much of an embrace as he could manage with both of us in full armor. “The feeling is mutual, Attis.” He patted me on the back once, then released me. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

          I grinned, remembering when I’d said the same thing to him during the retreat. “The same to you. Take care, Raucus.” With that, I took to the air and flew back to the main command group.

          When I arrived, Amara and Riva were discussing the fortifications yet again. “… this is something we can discuss when this is all over. We can even have a hearing over it, assuming any legates survive,” she was saying. Both of them paused to salute me as soon as I landed.

          “Is now really the time for more of this nonsense, Grantus?” I inquired lightly, giving him a warning look.

          He conceded the point with a nod, then turned his gaze to the southwest, to the causeway leading back to his city. “My city taken. My people fleeing for their lives, dying. Starving.” He glanced down at his armor and swordbelt, both of which looked very awkward on his pudgy frame. “All I’ve ever wanted for my lands was justice, prosperity, and peace.”

          I might not’ve cared much for Riva, but that sentiment I could relate to. “That’s all any High Lord can ask for. You should know the loss of Riva has weighed heavily on me these last few days. Today, I mean to make the Vord pay for it.”

          “Riders!” cried a lookout.

          We turned to see our pickets riding hard onto the open plain, pursued by Vordknights who swooped down to claw and stab at them. The pickets tried desperately to ward them off with arrows, but they did little good. “Those men are in trouble,” said Riva.

          Fortunately, I was prepared for this. I raised my fingers to my mouth and whistled, then signaled for the Knights Aeris just behind the wall to take off. I could’ve joined them as I had during the retreat and driven off the Vordknights, but it was necessary for me to remain with command and save my strength for when it was really needed. Besides, the Knights Aeris could handle them. My orders were to use the same technique I’d used on the Vordknights at Ceres—simply blow them out of the way. It was easier than expending the effort to fight them. The Knights called up powerful gusts of wind and soon had the Vordknights out of the way with little difficulty. With them removed as a threat, the sentries were able to reach the wall. Earthcrafters quickly opened up a gate just below the command station. As soon as the last rider was inside, they closed it.

          The leader of the riders dismounted and rushed up to us. He wore two stripes of the Order of the Lion on his breeches, though they were so muddied it was hard to tell. He paused in front of me and gave a brisk salute. “What news do you have to report?” I asked.

          “Flyboys have it pretty well, sir,” he replied. Sir, not sire. Well, I could hardly expect better from a veteran of Second Calderon. “I make it better than three million of their infantry coming and they aren’t being subtle about it. They’re in close order, sir, not like the packs they move in out in the countryside.”

          My heart leapt in my chest. That could mean only one thing. “That means… that means that this Queen of theirs is present,” said Riva.

          I nodded. “Everything we’ve seen so far leads me to believe that’s the case. They march in close order like you described when she’s present.”

          “Sir,” said the scout, drawing my attention back to him, “they’ve also got a good many of those giants they used for wall work during the campaign last year.”

          “Of course they do. Anything else?”

          “Aye. We couldn’t work around to the back, but I’m sure they had something coming along behind the main body. They weren’t kicking up any dust with all the rain we’ve had of late, but they were drawing crows.”

          “Second force?” Bernard speculated.

          “A guess—a pack of prisoners that they plan to feed to their takers and use to counter our crafting, the way they did at Alera Imperia,” Amara interjected. I suppressed a shudder at the memory of the taken appearing before me in the riverbed. I’d rather not have a repeat of that.

          “Could be,” the scout replied. “Or it could be they called their fliers back together to have them in numbers. We’ve only seen a few. Maybe they’re keeping them on the ground to prevent us from spotting them.”

          “We’ll be able to handle Vordknights. It’s probably best to assume that they’re coming with something we haven’t seen before,” Bernard replied, his face set and hard.

          I resisted the urge to curse aloud. This was exactly what I’d been fearing. Was this why the Vord hadn’t immediately pressed their attack and my guess regarding Octavian was wrong? Could the Vord have killed him since my watersending, leaving the Queen free to focus on disposing of me? I gave my head a slight shake—there was no time to dwell on this with battle upon us.

          “I don’t think the Vord have much of a bluff,” the scout was saying. “The way they’re coming on, they think they’ve got themselves a good hole card.”

          A blurry line appeared at the edge of the horizon. I stared at the approaching Vord for a moment, then turned to face the others. “Let them come. We’ve got some surprises of our own. It’s time the Queen understood that we have not survived for a thousand years in this hostile world without being able to adapt to our enemies.”

          The Vord came closer. There were so many they seemed to be one single, seething mass as they advanced on us. _Three million._ It was difficult to wrap my brain around that number. It was truly insane how the Queen could produce so damn many of them. They moved with an eerie silence unlike any other army I’d encountered before. Aleran Legions might be silent as they formed up on a battlefield, but they’d shout any number of war cries before the fighting actually began.

          “Draw steel!” shouted an old centurion standing beside Bernard.

          I did so.

          The air rang with the sound of swords being unsheathed as every single person present followed suit. There was something very encouraging about the sound. “For Alera!” I shouted, raising my sword to the sky. A bit of windcrafting carried my voice up and down the wall. A moment later it was answered by 150,000 shouts of, “Alera!” After all the work I’d done to keep Alera unified, we finally spoke with one voice. “Alera! Alera!” The sound of it stirred my heart. It even seemed to halt the Vord for a moment before they answered with horrible shrieking battle cries of their own. The front ranks rushed forward to close the remaining distance between us, and the battle began.

          It started with a volley of spears. This was a standard Legion tactic, dating all the way back to Roman times. The point was to disrupt the enemy formation and soften them up before engaging in close combat. There was no chance of us being able to break up the Vord formation, but that wasn’t the point. Octavian had come up with the idea to attach glass spheres with fire furies inside to standard Legion spears. There weren’t enough of the new spears for every man, so they’d been given to only the most skilled spearmen. As soon as they made contact with their targets, the spheres exploded. Alone, they did little damage. But when they fell by the thousands, they had the same effects as a Knight Ignus’s fire-sphere. I’d used the same idea at Riva when I had the Knights hit the Vord with many small fireblasts. The air was soon filled with greasy black smoke and the smell of burning Vord. It didn’t slow them down for long, but I hadn’t expected it to. We had more surprises in store for them.

          The Vord charged forward over the bodies of their dead and dug their sharp claws into the wall. It wasn’t long before the first of them reached the top. The Legions were ready for them. The tighter confines of the wall made it harder for the mantis-form Vord warriors to maneuver. The disruption they managed to sow amongst the Legions at Riva would not happen here. Every time the Vord reached the top of the wall, the _legionares_ pushed them back, though not without taking casualties. I tried my hardest to keep my expression impassive as I watched _legionares_ be skewered by Vord scythe-arms like crabs on picks.

          The bodies of dead Vord began to pile up around the base of the wall. The Vord clambered over them, using them as makeshift ramps. With the shortness of the wall, it wouldn’t be long before the piles reached the top. I folded my hands behind my back and watched intently. We had to wait for just the right moment to ignite the oil and coal lying beneath the Vord. I wanted them packed in as tightly as possible before I gave the signal. To either side of the command station, _legionares_ fought hard against an increasing tide of Vord.

          I looked at Bernard, who was watching the Vord press closer and closer. “What do you think, Count Bernard?” I asked. “Shall we give the Vord a warm welcome?”

          He nodded. “Now!” I immediately sent a brilliant scarlet star of fire straight into the sky. There was no way anyone would miss it, even in broad daylight. It was soon answered by many more signals up and down the wall.

          The plain in front of the wall had been carefully saturated with oil in preparation for this moment. The ground was practically wet with it. Under that was a layer of coal which had been raised to mere inches below the surface. Finally, a series of earthcrafted tubes filled with oil made up the bottom layer. I sent a fireball directly into the nearest opening. Along the wall, every Knight Ignus did the same.

          For a moment, nothing happened. Then the plain exploded in fire.


	8. The Second Wall

          Flames leapt up from the ground, eagerly devouring the oil, coal, and Vord on the plain. A moment later the wind began to roar as huge gusts fanned the flames. That had been Ehren’s idea, sending the most powerful High Lords save myself to stir up some strong winds. It was a better suggestion than the one he’d made to me at Riva. The flames grew higher and higher every second until the tips licked the top of the wall. The entire plain was now a wall of fire. I couldn’t help but smile as thousands upon thousands of Vord met a fiery end, their dying shrieks music to my ears.

          “I have to give credit to your nephew,” I remarked to Bernard, “this was an ingenious plan.”

          He narrowed his eyes, but acknowledged my compliment with a nod. “He did this at the Elinarch, only backward.”

          I’d heard reports of Octavian’s heroism and unusual tactics in the Battle of the Elinarch from Fidelias. At the time none of us had known his true identity, though I’d begun to wonder while reading the detailed reports. He’d reminded me of Septimus, except Sep wasn’t as cunning or inventive. A small part of me was pleased by the thought that some part of my dear friend lived on, but the greater part made note of Octavian as a potentially dangerous enemy and threat to my plans. He had, after all, thwarted them once before.

          “Ruthless,” Riva proclaimed after Amara explained what Octavian had done against the Canim.

          “Indeed,” she replied.

          “The boy finishes what he begins.” A corner of Bernard’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “His Highness, the boy.”

          There was something encouraging about his total faith in his nephew. “I spoke to him yesterday,” I mentioned casually.

          All three of them stared at me, eyes wide and mouths agape. “How?” Bernard managed to ask.

          “At the end of my watersending. I cut all the connections and focused on him. It was a one-way connection, so we couldn’t exactly have a chat, but I got a message through. I told him to keep up the good work.”

          “What do you mean by that?” Amara inquired.

          “I suspect he’s been causing trouble for the Vord somehow, so I told him to keep doing whatever he’s been doing,” I explained.

          They continued to gape at me, not quite seeing my reasoning. I shrugged. “If my guess turns out to be wrong, then he’d have just been confused by my message. This is the best communication I can manage with our regular watersending capabilities being cut.”

          Amara nodded slowly. “It’s a good guess as to why the Vord didn’t press the attack as hard as they might have.”

          Bernard met my eyes, his expression softening slightly. “Thank you for confirming he’s still alive.” I inclined my head in acknowledgement, then turned my attention back to the inferno. The fires continued to blaze down below, a solid wall of flame between us and the Vord. I could hear the dull roar of windstreams overhead as the High Lords returned from their mission. Now was the time for us to leave, before the fires burned out.

          “Sound the retreat!” I ordered. “Our work is done here. We will fall back to the next wall.” Legion horns soon echoed up and down the wall. Groups of men began evacuating down the stairs and assembling in regular formation. The wounded were carefully loaded onto the Marats’ gargants. Their saddles had been specially modified to carry them. I’d never ridden on a gargant, but they couldn’t possibly be less comfortable than a bumpy wagon.

          “Your highness,” said Riva stiffly, “I owe you an apology. You were right, when you told me off at the Senate meeting. I should’ve known better.”

          I waved a hand dismissively. “No doubt you’ve seen ample proof of how wrong you were. Apology accepted.” My opinion of Rivus Grantus, which had been rather low, rose a bit in that moment. At least he was able to admit when he was wrong.

          Riva turned next to Bernard. “Count Calderon, I realize that our relationship has been… a distant one and that you have doubtless worked very hard to prepare the Valley’s defenses. Nonetheless, I should like to volunteer my skills and those of my engineers to do whatever we can to help.” Both of us eyed him, neither of us having expected this. “I’m not a very good soldier,” Riva continued, “but I know about building. And some of the finest architects and engineers in the Realm ply their trade in my city.”

          I gave a small nod. “Your offer is appreciated.”

          “Be honored, your grace,” said Bernard. “Giraldi here will show you to Pentius Pluvus. He’s kept books and schedules for us on this project. He’ll know where you and your folks can help the most.”

          Riva offered Bernard his hand. They clasped forearms briefly, then he and I did the same. “Good luck to you, Count, Princeps,” he said before saluting and taking his leave. Once he was gone, I gave orders for the rest of the command staff to retreat back to the tower. Beyond the plain, the fire was spreading to the grass. Vord could be seen massing around the edges of the blaze, waiting for it to die down.

          “Shouldn’t we go?” Amara asked.

          “There’s a little time,” Bernard replied. “That’s the beauty of this plan. It does two things at once. Kills the Vord and gives us time to fall back to a stronger position.”

          “I don’t know about either of you, but I find the dying screeches of the Vord currently burning in agony to be more pleasing to the ear than the finest music. Unfortunately the _smell_ is terrible, but it hardly detracts from the enjoyment,” I said, a grin playing at the edges of my lips.

          Amara returned my smile, but Bernard continued to stare across the burning plain with a tense expression. “You’re thinking about Isana,” she observed.

          “She’s my sister.” One of his fists made contact with the wall, causing a web of fine cracks to form. “The Queen has her.” Amara laid a hand over his fist and he seemed to relax somewhat. “I hoped this would draw her out.”

          “That makes two of us,” I interjected. “She can’t stay hidden forever. Killing both Octavian and I has to be a high priority for her. She knows as long as we’re alive, there will be resistance.” I took a step closer to Bernard. “As for your sister, it’s very likely she’s still alive. The Queen must’ve taken her as a hostage to use against Octavian and there’s no use killing a valuable hostage.”

          “That’s small comfort,” said Bernard. “Suppose we shouldn’t waste any more time here.”

          “I agree. We’re not doing much good standing here…” My words trailed off as a cloud of white vapor began to rise from the plain. “That’s not smoke.” It thickened before our eyes and expanded rapidly. “Steam.”

          “Watercraft?” Bernard murmured. “How?”

          “They must’ve diverted a river, just like I did at Alera Imperia,” I speculated.

          Bernard pondered my statement for a moment, then nodded. “The Little Goose is about a mile and a half past that last hill. Would it be possible to move it that far?”

          “It shouldn’t be,” Amara answered. “We must be thirty or so feet higher here than at the river’s nearest point.”

          “Serious crafting. And they did it far enough out so that even if the Queen was in on it, we’d never come within sight of her.” He gave me a measured look. “Invidia’s idea, you think?”

          I pursed my lips as I considered his question. “Quite possibly. She is far more knowledgeable about the possibilities of crafting than the Queen, who is still a novice. And it’d be just like Invidia to use my own tactics against me. That sort of thing amuses her.”

          “It would take several crafters working together to accomplish this. Water is heavy. To make it move against its nature that way—I’m not sure if even Sextus could have done it,” Amara added.

          “And I didn’t do it alone at Alera Imperia,” I pointed out. “I had a handful of skilled watercrafters assisting me. My guess is this was accomplished with the aid of whatever enslaved watercrafters remain to them.”

          The plumes of steam continued to grow and spread across the plain. Bernard spit in frustration. “I make it maybe three quarters of an hour before they can walk right on up to the wall again.”

          I sighed heavily. Once again the Vord found a way to counter our carefully-laid plans. “Less than that.”

          “Figured we had two, three hours at least.” Bernard turned to the stairs and gestured for us to follow him. “We’d better get moving.”

          Our horses were ready and waiting for us at the bottom. I mounted my horse and readied myself for yet another retreat. There was some comfort to be had in the fact that this one would not be nearly as long. The second wall was only a couple hours’ ride from here and the day was yet young. There would be no need to sleep in a wagon this time. Indeed, it was likely I’d sleep in a real bed tonight for the first time since Riva. The steadholt formerly known as Isanaholt was located just inside the wall, and Amara assured me it was available for the command group’s use. The steadholders themselves had already been evacuated, except for a few who remained to aid us.

          We were among the last stragglers to withdraw from the wall. Ahead of us, Legions marched in regular formation along the causeway. This retreat was considerably more orderly than the previous one, which was some small comfort. The difference was we’d been prepared for this one and actually had the time to evacuate in an orderly fashion. The Legions who’d manned the wall had paid in blood to give us this chance. They’d known that we never meant to hold the wall for long when they took their positions. It is not for _legionares_ to question but to do their duty and serve Alera. Those men had known this and were prepared to sacrifice their lives so others might live. “If we should survive this, I will personally see to it that every man in each of the Legions who fought on the wall today is commended,” I said as we rode.

          Bernard gave a grunt of approval. “They deserve it.”

          A couple of hours passed before we reached the second wall. This one was the standard height of twenty feet and a total of three miles long. Those dimensions made it much easier to defend than the first one. I was initially dismayed to learn that the wall did not span the entire width of the Valley, but rather stopped at a large mountain on the northern coast. Bernard had informed me that this was completely intentional. Said mountain was home to a powerful and notoriously territorial Great Fury. Any Vord foolish enough to pass that way in an attempt to outflank us would meet their ends, he assured me. It was so nice when the landscape itself was more than willing to help us fight the Vord. The wall itself was designed much the same as the first one, with fortifications at both ends and strategic points in between. And much like the first wall, it had its own defensive surprises.

          During my time at the Academy, history had been one of my favorite subjects aside from furycrafting. The period that interested me most had always been the earliest Aleran history. I eagerly read everything I could find about the Romanic Arts, including those few Roman texts which survived. The Arts remained a subject of intense debate among scholars, with the main controversy centering on whether the Ancient Romans had furycraft. In my opinion, all the available evidence suggested they did not. So when Bernard informed me that Octavian had recreated the Romanic war machines known as mules, I was intrigued. While it was commonly thought the Romans loaded them with stones to lob at walls during sieges, Octavian decided to add his own twist. These mules would launch thousands of glass spheres, each containing a fire fury, at the Vord. I couldn’t wait to try them out.

          _Legionares_ had already taken up positions along the wall. They’d been there for a whole day, having left for the second wall yesterday. Seeing them ready to fight lifted my spirits. Once again, we were prepared to face the Vord. Those Legions who had been stationed at the first wall took up support positions once they’d passed through the gate. Those closest to the causeway had had an easy march; those coming from the northern or southern ends of the wall weren’t so lucky. They’d had to march overland without the benefits of a causeway until they met up with it. Fortunately, none of them had come under attack while en route. The fire trap had bought us enough time, though I wished it had given us a bit extra.

          As soon as I was past the wall, I made for the steadholt so I might begin setting up the command center. It was surrounded by its own stone wall, which was apparently a common feature of the steadholts in the Valley. Pathways connected it to the larger wall, making it easier for those of us in the command group to move between the two. Stone walls around a steadholt back home would be an unusual sight, but here the holders needed extra protection from the many dangers they faced. _Like the Marat,_ the voice I’d recently identified as my conscience pointed out. The steadholt itself was laid out much the same as any other steadholt in the Realm, with a large central building and barn surrounded by many smaller outbuildings. Amazing to think that Septimus’s son had grown up in such a place, hidden from everyone including Gaius. I couldn’t help but think Septimus would’ve approved, considering how he liked to disguise himself and walk anonymously among the common people. I’d even accompanied him on many occasions.

          Numerous _legionares_ and Marat were rushing to and fro across the courtyard. Several gargants could be seen as well. The sight of the Marat brought with it the unpleasant realization that had my plan succeeded, these same people would’ve destroyed this place. That thought made me profoundly uncomfortable. It was too easy to ignore the cost when I didn’t have to see those who’d be affected firsthand. _Focus, Attis,_ I reminded myself as I entered the great hall. _No time for such thoughts now._

          The great hall was a large, cavernous room with huge fireplaces at either end. Several trestle tables had been laid out, and I immediately claimed the one beside the further fireplace for the command group’s use. I took a seat at the table and instructed Flavius to have the sand table set up beside it. Amara sat down beside me while Bernard went off to converse with the old centurion who’d stood beside him on the wall. The stone walls fairly echoed with the sound of many conversations and the clanking of armor. Most of the command group was present, but I saw no need to call a meeting when the Vord would likely catch up to us soon. Off to the side, Raucus was deep in conversation with the captain of one of the Antillan Legions.

          Bernard hurried over to the table, a tense expression on his face. “Just got an update from Giraldi on the evacuation. Not all of the refugees are past the last wall yet. Many of those remaining are sick or wounded.”

          “Crows take it,” I cursed. “How long before they’re clear?”

          “If it happens before midnight, it’ll be a miracle. It’s going to be a long afternoon and evening,” said Bernard. “We can’t go on with the plan if we’ve got to hold the wall that long.”

          “It never rains.” I sighed. “Somehow I’m not surprised there’s been yet another wrinkle in the plan. We’ll have to make adjustments. Do either of you have any suggestions?”

          Amara was the first to speak up. “Stick to the plan, but slow it down. Use the mules to grind away at them rather than trying to do it for shock value. Hold the wall until the civilians are safe, then disengage.”

          My eyebrows rose. “Disengage in the dark? Have you any idea how dangerous a feat that is? The slightest error could turn it into a complete rout.” One of the cardinal rules of warfare was night actions were extremely difficult to coordinate and thus recipes for disaster. I wouldn’t undertake one unless there were no other options.

          “Ask Doroga and his clan to hold them off for a time and cover the retreat,” Amara replied. “Those gargants of theirs are natural-born Vord killers, and they’re fast enough to stay ahead of the enemy on the way back down to Garrison.”

          I thought over her suggestions for a moment, then nodded. “That’s likely the best we’re going to get, under the circumstances. Make it happen, on my authority if need be.”

          Bernard gave a curt nod. “I’ll go talk to Doroga.”

          After he left, Amara scanned the room. “Where is Sir Ehren? I thought he’d be here with the rest of the command group by now.”

          “I don’t know, but there is a good chance he was injured on the first wall this morning. He might even have been killed. Otherwise, he’d have come in with those who’d been stationed at the southern end.”

          Amara’s eyes filled with worry. “He shouldn’t have been there. He was never trained as a soldier.” There was a faint note of accusation in her voice.

          “That may be, but his services were too valuable for me to send him off with my valet.” In truth, I’d recently come to the realization that Ehren might well have been setting me up with his suggestion at Riva. I’d had a close escape there, after all. He might’ve served me without complaint, but I was still his close friend’s rival. Were I in his position and Septimus in Octavian’s, I’d have taken any opportunity to remove my best friend’s dangerous rival. I respected Ehren for his competence, but I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I met Amara’s eyes before speaking again. “In a war like this, Countess, there are no civilians. Only survivors. Good people die, even though they don’t deserve it. Or perhaps we all deserve it. Or perhaps no one does. It doesn’t matter. War is no more a respecter of persons than is death.”

          She blinked slowly, processing my words. She looked as if she were about to make some reply when several shouts rang out from the courtyard. A moment later one of my _singulares_ burst through the doors and made straight for me. “Your Highness, the Vord have been sighted!”

          I sighed again. “No rest for the wicked. Countess Amara, shall we head to the wall?”


	9. A Brief Respite

          Amara and I flew up to the wall and took up positions at the nearest defensive tower. This wall was more heavily-fortified than the first one, with towers spaced every hundred yards. They rose up an additional ten feet above the wall, offering an excellent view of the surroundings. Bernard was already in position when we arrived. The rest of the command group followed shortly after. Once everyone was present, I addressed them. Amara cast a quick windcrafting to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. “Time for Round Two, ladies and gentlemen. As you may recall from our previous meetings, we have some more surprises here in the form of the Romanic war machines known as mules. Each one is capable of unleashing the equivalent of a Knight Ignus’s fire-sphere on the Vord.” A few of them, including Raucus, looked skeptical, but no one challenged me. “We’ll wait until they’re in spear range, then unleash the first volleys. Look for the signal. Raucus, Phrygia, you’ll take up positions at the northern end of the wall. Sandos, Aria, you’ve got the southern end. The rest of you will disperse yourselves along its length to make sure all of it is covered. The Calderons and I will remain here, with the Countess relaying messages at need. Let’s get to work!”

          They saluted and left to take their positions. I moved over to the edge of the battlements and looked out over the plain. The Vord were moving swiftly toward the wall. It was late afternoon now and the sun would begin to set in an hour or so. I hoped we could accomplish what we needed to here before then, otherwise it’d be shining right in our eyes. My musings were interrupted by the arrival of a courier. “Your highness!”

          I beckoned him forward into the circle covered by Amara’s windcrafting. “Report.”

          “Captain Miles has spotted a sizable enemy force moving to the north, sire, to circle around the end of the wall!” he informed us, frantic.

          I inclined my head toward Bernard. “I refer you to the Count Calderon, as he is the expert on these defenses.”

          The courier faced Bernard, eyes wide. “Um? Sir? Captain Miles is afraid the enemy will turn our flank. There’s nearly a quarter mile of open ground at the end of the wall before it reaches the flank of the mountain.”

          “And that’s a problem?” Bernard questioned.

          “Sir! The wall isn’t finished, sir!”

          Bernard grinned wolfishly. “The wall is exactly where it’s supposed to be, son.” Below, the first ranks of Vord were nearly in range. The courier made another protest, but Bernard silenced him with a hard look. “Return to Captain Miles, give him my compliments, and inform him he is to stand fast. An allied contingent has been placed to support him should he need it. Dismissed.” The courier swallowed nervously, saluted, and took off.

          “Couldn’t you have told him more?” Amara asked.

          “The fewer who know, the better,” Bernard replied.

          More Vord charged across the plain. “Signal the mules to stand ready,” I ordered Centurion Giraldi, who was in his usual place beside Bernard. I turned to Amara next. “You can release your windcrafting now.” She nodded and promptly did so. The earth itself rumbled as the Vord charged across the plain. They shrieked their piercing battlecries, only to be answered by defiant shouts from the wall. I watched intently as the nearest _legionares_ lifted their spears and threw. Now was the time. I raised my arm, then lowered it quickly. “Fire!”

          My cry was soon answered by many more shouts of, “Fire!” as the mules positioned behind the wall loosed their volleys at once. The glass spheres soared overhead, glittering as they caught the fading light of the sun. I couldn’t keep myself from grinning broadly as I watched them strike the ground. The load of each individual mule unleashed a blast very nearly as powerful as one of my own fire-spheres. The Vord charge came to an abrupt halt as they died by the thousands. A minute later, the mules fired again. “Bloody crows!” a _legionare_ shouted, no doubt awestruck by the sight. I felt like a child with a new toy as I watched the mules go to work. I’d always wanted to see one in action, though I never thought it would actually be possible. Maestro Magnus had spoken of wanting to construct one during my Academy days; I wondered if he’d managed it in the time since. It seemed likely Octavian had gotten the idea from Magnus’s classes—I knew that he was acquainted with Magnus from Fidelias’s reports. But beyond satisfying my intellectual curiosity and killing large numbers of Vord, the mules had just shown that anybody with access to one, no matter how weak their furycrafting, could create a fireblast worthy of a High Lord.

          Throughout Aleran history, there’d been many examples of freemen rising up in hopes of obtaining greater rights for themselves. There had even been a few slave revolts way back in the centuries before discipline collars were invented. In most of these cases, the revolts had been put down ruthlessly by lords, High Lords, or even the First Lord himself in the most serious cases. Far too many High Lords and Citizens used their positions to oppress and abuse both freemen and slaves under their rule. Kalarus was only the most recent example, though he was a particularly horrific one. Not only had he and his predecessors built their entire economy on slavery, they’d also taxed their people into abject poverty. I’d known these things prior to his rebellion, but it wasn’t until Samara told me in detail of how bad things were in Kalare that I grasped the full extent of it. My family had done the exact opposite. I’d been taught that it was our duty to protect our people, not to ruthlessly exploit and oppress them. To that effect, I’d done my best to rule well and fairly. I was proud that my city was wealthy and prosperous. This approach proved very effective in winning me the love and support of my people.

          With the advent of these mules, no High Lord could ever oppress his people again. No Kalarus would arise in the future to turn his city into a place of poverty and misery. The thought was pleasing to me. That may sound strange coming from a High Lord, but I had little fear of such devices ever being turned against me. Besides, anything that could keep the power of the High Lords in check was a good thing in my opinion. Had I not turned against Gaius because of his inability to keep them under control? _But you yourself became an uncontrolled High Lord_ , my conscience whispered. _Even if you never oppressed your people, you still turned against the First Lord._

          The piercing shrieks of Vord warriors interrupted my introspection. They charged the wall in defiance of the mules. This time, their claws found no purchase in the hard granite surface of the wall. The _legionares_ took advantage of this to pour cauldrons of boiling water and oil down on them. Others poured buckets of hot sand onto the heads of the Vord. I found myself unable to stop grinning as the Vord screeched in agony. The mules continued to fire, although their loads were smaller after the third barrage so as to conserve the spheres. Not a single Vord made it to the top of the wall this time.

          “This… this is going to change everything,” Amara breathed as we watched the mules fire load after load of spheres.

          “Hope so,” Bernard replied. “Means there’s something left standing to change.”

          The battle raged on. In addition to the other projectiles, _legionares_ threw rocks down at the Vord. Gargants moved up and down the wall, supplying them with more rocks when they ran low. Soon the bodies of dead Vord formed makeshift ramps, just as they had at the first wall. Knights Ignus melted some; Knights Terra sank others into the ground.

          We were holding. Great Furies, _we were holding._

          As another batch of spheres sailed over the wall, the ground began to shake. I suddenly grew tense, fearing some new surprise from the Vord. “What is this? I didn’t order any earthcrafting attacks.” I used a sightcrafting to scan the area for enslaved earthcrafters. “And I see no signs of enemy earthcrafting.”

          Bernard nudged me and pointed to the north. “This is no earthcrafting. It’s Garados.” I turned to see clouds of dust coming from the mountain. I did another quick sightcrafting to get a better look. An entire side of the mountain had given way, causing an enormous rockslide. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what happened—the Vord had tried a flanking maneuver and strayed too close to the domain of the territorial Great Fury in the mountain.

          “This must be the best example of using the terrain against the enemy I’ve ever seen,” I told him. “Brilliant idea.”

          “Bloody mountain has been a worry and an almighty trial to me for most of twenty-five years,” he growled. “About time the thing started pulling its own weight.”

          I chuckled. “I understand completely, seeing as I’ve got the Feverthorn Jungle on my southern border. If we were fighting near there, I’d have tried my best to find a way to use it against the Vord. Last I heard, they hadn’t invaded it.”

          A piercing wail rose up from the Vord, drawing my thoughts away from the Feverthorn Jungle and back to the battle. The Vord scurried about below, forming some semblance of ranks and then, miraculously, began to withdraw. “They’re running!” a _legionare_ shouted.

          I raised my sword in the air and let out a loud victory cheer. They’d be back sooner or later, likely with some way to counter our attacks, but we’d managed to drive them off. We needed a minor victory like this for morale’s sake. It was worth celebrating. Around me and all along the wall, exuberant cheers broke out. The wall seemed almost to shake with them. Once the cheers died down, I turned to Bernard. “Signal the Legions to stand down and have the captains set up a rotation to get the men food and rest. We ought to do the same.”

          “Will do.”

          A few more minutes were spent creating the rotation for the command group to ensure someone would always be present at the command station. The Calderons assured me they could go a little longer without a break, so I took my leave of them and headed back to the steadholt. I hadn’t eaten anything yet today and I was quite hungry. But before I could obtain some dinner, Veradis intercepted me to give a report on the situation with the healers. It so happened that my guess regarding Ehren was correct—he’d been badly wounded on the first wall. “Will he live?” I asked her.

          “I believe so, but it will be a bit of time before he’s on his feet again.”

          I gave a small sigh of relief—I might not’ve trusted Ehren, but neither did I want him dead. That being said, I wasn’t terribly upset that he’d be away from me for a little while. I’d miss his competence, yes, but I had no intention of taking any more of his suggestions to heart. It was entirely possible that Gaius assigned him to me precisely so there’d be a knife at my back. That’d be exactly like the old bastard. “How are the healers holding up?” I asked Veradis.

          “Fairly well. The influx of injured has slowed,” she answered.

          “Casualties have been negligible at the second wall thus far,” I informed her. “The Vord have retreated.”

          Veradis’s eyebrows rose in shock. “They… _retreated?”_

          “Yes, but they’ll be back at some point. I’d suggest getting some rest while things are slow so you’ll be fresh once it picks up again.”

          “I’ll be sure to do that, your highness,” she said before taking her leave. Once she was gone, I headed into the kitchen. I was immediately greeted by the delicious smell of baking bread. The kitchen bustled with activity as the cooks assigned to the command group shared space with a handful of holders who’d remained to assist us. Much of the activity came to a brief halt when they noticed me. Some of the holders stared openly—it wasn’t every day that a High Lord of Alera visited their kitchen, though, I thought with some amusement, a Princeps was a regular enough sight.

          “Greetings,” I said genially. “What’s for dinner?”

          It turned out to be a rustic barley and vegetable stew. I filled a bowl, then grabbed a couple thick slices of bread and a cup of mead. I carried my dinner back out to the great hall and took a seat at the table we’d appropriated for the command group. _Legionares_ , Marat, and High Lords filtered in and out of the great hall, occasionally stopping to get some food. It wasn’t long before I was joined by Raucus. “How about that Vord retreat, eh?” he said, elbowing me with a grin.

          “They’ll be back soon enough, but this is certainly very encouraging.” I ate a spoonful of the stew. It wasn’t something I’d normally seek out at a banquet, but it was tasty and satisfying. The bread was thick and chewy, the sort of hearty food one needed after a battle.

          “I have to hand it to Calderon—using that mountain as part of the defense was brilliant. Bloody bugs didn’t know what hit them!” Raucus exclaimed.

          “I wish I could’ve seen it,” I replied with a grin. “It would’ve been a very satisfying sight.”

          Raucus laughed and ate some of his stew. “It was. Too bad they’ll know to avoid it next time.”

          I sipped my mead. “Yes, that is unfortunate. There are still the mules, though. I greatly enjoyed watching them wreak havoc on the Vord.” I shook my head. “I never thought I’d get to see even one of them in action, let alone a hundred!”

          “Every time they fired, I knew you had to be enjoying yourself,” said Raucus. “Personally I never understood what you found so interesting about all that Romanic stuff. Seemed like more boring history to me.”

          I grinned at him. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. I never managed to convince you that history is fascinating then; I doubt I’ll manage it now.”

          “If it’s not about a war or a battle, it just doesn’t hold my attention,” he retorted.

          “That must be why you fell asleep most of the time during history lectures. We should be glad Octavian apparently didn’t.”

          Raucus nodded curtly and ate more of his stew. “Cunning one, isn’t he?”

          “Indeed. Have you heard much about him from your boys?”

          He looked down at his bowl. “No. Things are… difficult between Max and I.” He sighed. “Most of it’s Dorotea’s fault. She killed Diona and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it without kicking off a political shitstorm.”

          I laid a hand on his arm. I’d never actually met Diona, but I remember hearing plenty about her from Raucus. He’d beamed when he told Septimus and I she was pregnant. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” It seemed Raucus and I had very similar experiences of marriage, with both of us forced to marry women we hated. Not for the first time, I was glad Invidia and I had no children. That was one of the few things on which we saw eye-to-eye. At least it made things much less complicated now that we were divorced.

          “Thank you. Dorotea used to beat him.” One of Raucus’s hands curled into a fist. “I should’ve done something to stop it. Problem was I was on the Shieldwall most of the time and Max was alone with her. He ran off to join the Legions when he was just fourteen, you know. I wish I could… make it up to him somehow.”

          I was silent for a moment as I took in his words. Parenting wasn’t exactly a subject I felt qualified to give advice on. I’d had a very good relationship with my own parents, but I was hardly an expert. “Well, who’s to say you can’t if both of you survive this? I mean, look at you and I. We didn’t speak for twenty-odd years and now we’re eating dinner together.”

          “I suppose you’ve got a point there,” he said softly. “You know, Gaius intentionally had Octavian room with Max at the Academy. He wanted them to become friends. I was furious when I found out.”

          “Manipulative old bastard. He must’ve been thinking of you and Sep. I daresay if I’d had a son in the Academy at the same time, he’d have also found himself in close proximity to Octavian.” I mopped up the last remnants of my stew with a piece of bread.

          “Thinking about it now, though… I’m not so angry anymore,” Raucus admitted. “It seems both my boys have made a very good team working with Octavian.”

          I looked up from my dinner and met his eyes. “You’ll see them again, Raucus. We’re going to get through this, somehow.”

          “I hope you’re right.”

          Once I finished the last of my mead, I bade him farewell and headed back to the wall. Given my choice I’d have stayed and conversed some more, but I needed to return to the command station. The Calderons were exactly where I’d left them. “Get something to eat and try to rest a bit,” I ordered them. “The cooks have prepared a hearty dinner. You’d best hurry before they run out.”

          “That sounds tempting,” said Amara. She gave me a quick salute before following Bernard down the stairs. I turned my attention to the situation on the wall. Nothing had changed; no Vord could be seen. The sun had now set and night was coming on swiftly. Would the Vord attempt a night attack? They’d done so before, at Ceres. Fighting a battle at night ran against all conventional military wisdom, but those rules didn’t apply to the Vord. The wall had to remain on high alert at all times. As soon as it began to grow dark, I had differently-colored furylamps distributed up and down the wall for use as signals.

          The Calderons rejoined me after they were done eating. We remained together on the wall until the night had enveloped the sky, leaving only the moon and a few stars for light. “You need to get some rest,” I said to Amara, who looked dead on her feet. “You’re of no use to Alera if you drop dead from exhaustion.”

          “I’m needed here…”

          “He’s right,” Bernard cut her off. “You should get some rest. I can handle things here for now.” He turned to me, studying my face for a moment. “You look like you could use some too.”

          “I’m flattered by your concern,” I replied with a grin. “You need to make sure you get some as well.” He gave a curt nod. A moment later, Amara and I flew down from the wall and headed to the steadholt. I wasn’t nearly as tired as I’d been after Riva, but I certainly could’ve done with a short nap. This day felt as long as an entire week. Had I truly been in bed with Laelia just this morning? It felt like it’d been ages ago.

          When we’d arrived earlier, the current steadholder offered me the largest bedroom, but I chose to decline his offer. The room had once belonged to Bernard, so it seemed more fitting that he and Amara use it. In all honestly any real bed would seem luxurious after sleeping on hard boards and a camp cot. Thus, I’d be sleeping in the second-largest bedroom. Incidentally, it had once belonged to Isana. I wondered who was in Octavian’s old room.

          Flavius had already brought up the essentials. We wouldn’t be staying here long, so there was no sense in unpacking. I stripped off my armor and changed into my sleeping clothes. I couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as I sank onto the bed. It was a far cry from my bed at home, but it was still a real bed. My back appreciated it greatly.

          While I lay in bed, my conscience began to assert itself once more as the thoughts I couldn’t afford to dwell on earlier floated back into my mind. _This place would’ve been destroyed if your plan had succeeded,_ it whispered. It seemed to have acquired Septimus’s voice. _The Marat would’ve burned it to the ground and slaughtered all the holders._ The thought was an unpleasant one. When I’d made the decision that led to Second Calderon, the people here had been a single anonymous mass, easy to dismiss in the face of what I deemed the greater good. But now that I’d met some of them and was currently enjoying their hospitality, I felt a growing sense of shame at what I’d done. With that thought, I fell asleep.

          I’d only been asleep for a couple of hours when sharp knocking at the door woke me. “Enter,” I said, stifling a yawn.

          The door opened and Amara stepped inside. “Your highness, we have a visitor. Your ex-wife is here.”


	10. The Offer

          I sat up with a start. _“What?”_

          Amara set a windcrafting about the room to keep us from being overheard and stepped forward to stand beside my bed. “Invidia is in my room right now. She has a proposal for us.”

          I lit a furylamp, then stood and buckled on my swordbelt. “And you honestly believe her?”

          “Not in the slightest, but we can’t reject her proposal without at least considering it first. She’s offering to lead us to the Queen,’ Amara elaborated.

          My eyebrows rose—I couldn’t say I was expecting that. Not that Invidia wasn’t capable of turning on the Queen, but that she’d think any of us would even be willing to listen to what she had to say and not simply kill her outright. “Did she now? And what did you say in response?”

          “I told her that she ought to make her offer to you,” she replied.

          “Ah. I suspect Invidia approached you first because she knew I’d try to kill her on sight.”

          “What do you wish to do, sire?”

          I pursed my lips as I considered the options. “Whatever she offers, she’ll likely betray us once we’ve served whatever purpose she has in mind. However, we cannot ignore a potential opportunity to kill the Queen. I will hear what she has to say.”

          Amara nodded. “I feel the same way. And you’re our resident expert on Invidia, so I trust your judgement when it comes to how she thinks.”

          “I can think of an infinite number of things I’d rather be known as than the resident Invidia expert, but at least my marital misery has been of some use.” I quipped. “Take me to her.” Amara led me to the room.

          Invidia stood by the window, looking even worse than she had when I’d last seen her at Riva. Her skin was covered in hideous cracked burn scars and she looked even thinner than she had at last sighting. A trickle of blood ran down from her cracked lips. She’d likely done her best to heal the burns, but the damage had been done. On her chest, the Vord creature pulsed unpleasantly. I might’ve felt pity for her, were she anyone other than Invidia. Her ruined, bloody lips twisted into a smirk as soon as she saw me. “Attis.”

          “Invidia. I confess I’m surprised to see you here. Looking for better company than the Vord Queen?”

          “Spare me your barbs. Let’s get to the point.”

          My hand came to rest on my sword hilt as my eyes locked on her. “As you wish. What do you have to offer us?”

          “I am offering to lead you to the Queen so that we might be rid of the Vord once and for all.”

          I let out a short, bitter laugh. “And why would you do such a thing? You realized your alliance with the Vord wasn’t worth the cost? Swimming through an ocean of blood to rule over a realm of bones and ashes no longer has any appeal?”

          Invidia threw back her head and laughed harshly. “Oh, this is rich! Amara, did you hear that? My ex-husband seeks to lecture me about morality! The man behind Second Calderon suddenly cares about human lives!”

          “I had a conscience once. Then I married you,” I retorted, looking directly into her eyes. “That is the difference between us, Invidia. I sought the throne out of love for Alera. Everything I did, I did because I wanted to see Alera strong and unified, not fractured as it was under Gaius. But you… you’ve never craved anything more than power. That’s what it was always about for you, your own ambition and hunger for power. You couldn’t grasp the idea of something greater than yourself if your life depended on it. That’s why you aren’t phased by the deaths of millions—if that’s the cost of your survival, you’ll pay it without even blinking. And now you’d sell out the Queen to us. You haven’t changed in the slightest and you never will.”

          My words seemed to strike home, for she made no response other than to narrow her eyes and glare at me. It was Amara who spoke next. “I believe we should return to the topic of the Queen.”

          “Right,” I replied. “What do you propose, Invidia?”

          “I will lead a group consisting of you and the other High Lords to where the Queen is. You’ll never find her without me—she has no intention of revealing herself. She’s too powerful for me to face on my own, but together we stand a chance of taking her down.”

          I gave a very small nod. “And what do you want in return?”

          “A full pardon for my actions, both before and during the war. I will retire to my estate on the northeastern border of the Feverthorn Jungle and live the rest of my life under house arrest there.”

          My lip curled in disgust at the very idea. I was quite sure she meant none of it. Invidia would never, ever be content with such a life. Plotting and treachery were her bread and oil—without them, she would surely shrivel up and cease to be. But I didn’t say any of this aloud. “The estate my father had me give you as a wedding gift?” I’d dared to hope she might wander into the Feverthorn Jungle while there and die so I’d be free of her, but no such luck.

          “The very same.”

          She intended to betray us, of that I was fairly certain. The question was when she would do it. She might wait until we’d disposed of the Queen for her, or she might lead us into a trap without ever revealing the Queen. Killing all of the most powerful High Lords would go a long way toward ensuring a Vord victory. However, I did not see that we had any choice but to accept her offer. It would likely be our only chance to kill the Queen and she knew it. “I accept your proposal, but not without conditions of my own.”

          The corners of her lips curled into the semblance of a smile. _Good. Let her think she has the upper hand._ “What are they?”

          “You will tell us everything you know about the Queen’s battle plans, the deployment of her troops, when she plans on attacking again, any surprises she has in store, everything.”

          Invidia gave a curt nod. “Agreed.”

          I spread my hands. “Well then, there’s no time like the present.” I strode over to the desk beside the window and took up a sheet of paper and a quill. “When will the next attack occur?”

          “Soon. You have three hours at most before the Queen attacks again.”

          “Has she found a way around our defenses?”

          “Vordknights will be sent to destroy those war machines you used on them earlier,” she replied.

          “They’ll be harder to spot at night. We’ll have to make sure to be on the lookout for them,” Amara interjected.

          “The Queen is eager for this to be over,” Invidia continued. “The Vord will attack with greater ferocity this time than in the latest engagements.”

          “Are there any surprises in store? Such as new Vord forms?”

          “Yes,” said Invidia. I detected a note of what might’ve been fear in her voice, though my watercrafting picked up nothing else from her. “They’re, well, enormous Vord, larger than gargants. She designed them to break through walls with ease. Once they reach the wall, it won’t last long. They don’t have any weak points either—no eyes.”

          I sighed. “I suppose the behemoths just weren’t getting the job done. Do these new Vord have any weaknesses at all?”

          “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

          A surge of fear hit me from Amara. I felt tremors of it myself, but I was determined not to let it show in front of Invidia. “We’ll have to improvise something.”

          Our conversation continued for several more minutes. I wrote down every tidbit of information Invidia provided, not wanting to miss any important details. “We intend to hold the wall just long enough to get the last groups of refugees to safety, then we’ll disengage and head for Garrison,” I informed her. I didn’t like sharing such details with her, but I had no choice. “If you’ve played us false regarding the coming attack, the deal’s off.”

          “Very well. I must return to the Queen before my absense is noted. Send up green signal arrows in groups of three when you wish to contact me.” She walked over to the window, then paused to meet my eyes. “Attis, make sure you get the other High Lords to agree. She’s more powerful than you or I, probably more powerful than both of us together. We’ll need them.”

          I nodded. “I will do my best.”

          Invidia opened the window and jumped out, vanishing into the night. As soon as she was gone, Amara let out a deep breath. “Well, what do you think?” she asked.

          “I think the Vord’s next attack will give us a chance to prove whether she is genuine—to a certain extent, anyway.” I tapped a finger against my swordbelt as I considered what Invidia told us. “There are many ways she could betray us. The whole thing may be an elaborate trap orchestrated by the Queen. But I think she gave away her intentions in what she said to me about the High Lords—she wants to be rid of the Queen, but she needs us to do it.”

          Amara pondered my statement for a moment before speaking. “I think you’re right. She told me she was desperate.”

          “Of course she is. This kind of existence must be a complete misery for her—she likes her comforts as much as I do. She will use us to dispose of the Queen, then turn on us once the deed is done. I’ll probably be her first target, in revenge for the burning and also for her general hatred of me,” I mused. “She won’t miss that opportunity.”

          “She told me Isana and Araris Valerian are both still alive and in the Queen’s custody. That got me thinking. Have you heard the story of how Isana healed his garic oil poisoning?” Amara asked.

          “Numerous times.”

          “Invidia was Isana’s patron; she must know it too. It’s possible Isana offered her some way to be rid of that thing on her chest.”

          I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure about that? Isana was only barely civil to me; I can’t imagine she’d offer to save Invidia willingly. Unless… unless she thought she might be able to turn Invidia against the Queen that way.”

          Amara nodded slowly. “Whatever the reason, the important thing is that Invidia believes she’s found a cure. She’s already gone to such lengths to preserve her miserable life that she won’t risk her Vord life support unless she found an alternative.”

          I chuckled. “Looks like I’m no longer the only Invidia expert here.”

          “There’s one other thing she mentioned that I think you should know, sire,” Amara murmured softly. “She said the Princeps would soon be of no concern to anyone. I don’t think she was talking about you.”

          My heart suddenly began to beat faster. “And why is that?”

          “Because it doesn’t make sense otherwise. If the Queen was planning to attack you, Invidia would’ve either kept quiet about it or warned us when she told us about the Queen’s plans. Instead, she let that slip. Taking into account what you told me about contacting Octavian yesterday, I think he must be close.”

          “She must’ve judged him the greater threat. He’s the one with the blood claim. An adoption may be the same thing legally, but blood claims have a stronger hold on the peoples’ minds. Besides that, he’s the one who gives them hope. He’s Septimus’s son.” His voice echoed in my head once again: _my son, Attis._ In that moment, I felt some fundamental shift occur deep inside me. The Queen was going to attack Septimus’s son. He might’ve been very cunning and innovative, but he’d only come into his furies a couple years ago. How could he possibly stand against her in a one-on-one fight? I found myself afraid for the life of my rival, and not for any reason having to do with the war. Before, I’d resolved not to raise a hand against him unless forced to do so. That was the reasoning behind my marriage proposal to Isana—by uniting our houses and making Octavian my heir, there’d be no need for a struggle between us. This was different.

          Septimus’s son should not die at the Queen’s hands.

          “You’ve given them hope too,” Amara said, startling me out of my revelation. “Don’t sell yourself short. Without you, I don’t think Alera would’ve lasted this long.”

          My eyes widened. “Do you truly mean that?”

          “Yes,” she murmured.

          “Thank you,” I said softly. “All I’ve ever wanted is to protect the Realm and see it strong.” I took a step toward the door. “And to that end, we need to have a command meeting.”

          It didn’t take long to summon the command group. We met at the command table in the great hall. As soon as everyone was present, Amara set a windcrafting around us to ensure our discussion wouldn’t be overheard. I sat at the head of the table, with Amara on my right and Raucus on my left. “She was right here? In the bloody steadholt?” he bellowed once Amara began her story. “Bloody crows, why didn’t you raise the alarm?”

          “Perhaps because Invidia would undoubtedly have killed her?” suggested Phrygia. “Which was presumably why she approached the Countess instead of the Princeps or any one of us?”

          “Exactly,” I replied. “She knew I’d try to kill her on sight. Amara, please continue.”

          “Invidia came here to try to make a deal,” she said.

          Most of them stared at her in shock, not expecting something like this from Invidia. “That isn’t surprising. It’s stupid, but not surprising,” Cereus remarked.

          “Why not, your grace?” Amara asked with a brief glance at me. I gave her a slight nod. We let Cereus continue his explanation without interruption.

          “Because for Invidia, life was always about pushing people around like pieces on a _ludus_ board. In her mind, what’s going on right now isn’t that different from business as usual in Alera. More difficult, more degrading, more unpleasant, but she doesn’t understand what losing a loved one…” Cereus’s breath seemed to catch in his throat. We all knew he’d endured many personal losses since Kalarus’s rebellion began, the loss of his city only the most recent of them. “What it does to a body. How it changes things. Woman’s never loved a thing in her life but power.”

          I nodded. “You have her exactly right, Cereus.”

          Phrygia stroked his red beard, thinking. “I thought she was trapped in the Vord’s service. That bug thing on her chest was the only thing keeping her alive.”

          “Yes,” I answered, “which means she’s either found or thinks she’s found an alternative to it.”

          “What did she offer?” asked Sandos.

          We told them. “She said that when we wanted to speak to her, we should send up green signal arrows in groups of three. She’ll contact us,” Amara informed them.

          A long silence followed as they digested the information. Raucus looked back and forth from me to Amara, dumbstruck, before his gaze settled on me. “Do you think she’s serious? Tell me you don’t think that bitch is serious, Attis!”

          “I do, in fact. I’m certain she wants to be rid of the Vord,” I answered honestly.

          “It’s a trap,” said Phrygia, shaking his head.

          “Bloody expensive trap,” Sandos cut in. “If that information she gave you is accurate, we can use it to hurt the Vord badly.”

          “You aren’t thinking like a bloody bug,” Raucus retorted. “The Queen can afford to throw away a million warriors if it means she breaks the back of our heaviest furycraft.”

          “And if we deploy our troops to take advantage of the enemy attack and she’s lying to us, the Vord will be able to take advantage of us,” Aria added. “They know where we’ll have to put them to counter the attack. If Invidia is lying, they can use that to their advantage.”

          “That’s precisely why we _won’t_ deploy our troops to counter their attack,” I explained. “We can’t let them know that we know their battle plans, otherwise the Queen will change them accordingly. But we can use this coming attack to determine if Invidia’s telling the truth.” Invidia was fully capable of being honest in order to gain your trust, only to stab you in the back later, but I kept that to myself. I needed them to go along with this plan.

          “And if she’s lying?” Aria inquired.

          “I don’t think she is, not about this. And if I turn out to be wrong and she _is_ lying, we won’t be offering the Vord a weakness they can exploit. We’re not going to win the war by killing Vord warriors in any case. We have to kill the Queen and this will likely be our only chance.”

          Aria fidgeted with her braid. “If the Vord come at us the way Invidia says they will, we won’t be able to hurt them for it. We’ll miss the opportunity.”

          “But we’ll know she’s telling the truth about something,” Amara cut in. “We’ve lost nothing and no matter what happens, we’ve gained one piece of what the Princeps and I judge to be reasonably reliable information.”

          “We know my sister and Araris are alive,” said Bernard.

          “Yes,” Amara continued. “The story about Isana saving Araris from garic poisoning was widely told. If Invidia thinks Isana could potentially save her from the poisoning as she did Araris, she might well plot to betray the Vord. She is determined and very intelligent.”

          Raucus grunted skeptically; several of the others looked unconvinced. “Invidia is a schemer,” I said. “It’s what she does. She likely thinks she can scheme her way out of this like she has out of so many other situations. If our guess turns out to be right and she’s telling the truth about the attack, she’s likely telling the truth about leading us to the Queen.”

          “And there’s one other thing,” Amara added, “something she may have genuinely let slip. She said the Princeps would shortly be of no concern to anyone…” she glanced briefly at me, “and she wasn’t talking about Attis.”

          A tense silence fell over the table. “I think Octavian is close,” Amara concluded.

          “If Invidia or the Queen attacks him, he’s as good as dead,” said Phrygia. “He’s had his full abilities for what, a year at the most? There’s no way he could’ve learned enough technique to apply them. And how many others could he possibly have with him, given that he landed in Antillus… a week ago, give or take? How many Knights Aeris were in the First Aleran?”

          “Twenty-six,” Sandos answered, “and your sons, Raucus.”

          “I spoke to Octavian briefly when I did my watersending yesterday,” I informed them. Several pairs of eyebrows rose and a few shocked gasps could be heard. I ignored them. “I told him to keep menacing the Vord’s rear. If he took my meaning and discerned my plan to crush the Vord between us, he’s likely heading toward us. If he’s been making enough trouble for them, the Queen may have decided to deal with him first and then focus on us.”

          “And if they’re talking about taking him down, then he’s probably close enough for the Queen to attack,” said Phrygia.

          “No.” Bernard’s voice was quiet, but firm. “She’s close enough for him to attack _her_ , your grace.”

          “If the Queen is beyond Invidia, she’s beyond Octavian. Simple as that. He’s barely more than a boy,” Phrygia insisted.

          “He shut down the plans of Invidia _and_ Attis when he _was_ a boy,” Bernard retorted, his eyes boring into Phrygia’s. “You’d be a fool to dismiss him.”

          “Indeed,” I interjected. “He is cunning, clever, and not to be underestimated.” My words were as much to convince myself as Phrygia, as I still didn’t like Octavian’s chances against the Queen despite Bernard’s confidence in him.

          Phrygia narrowed his eyes, his red beard bristling. Raucus laid a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Gun. Don’t make more of that than what he said. What if I’d spoken of your son that way, huh?”

          He visibly relaxed at Raucus’s words, then inclined his head toward Bernard. “He’s your blood. I didn’t think before I spoke. Please excuse me.” Bernard acknowledged his apology with a nod.

          “Stay focused,” Aria chided them. “We can’t know what to do about Octavian until we find him or he makes contact. It’s possible that he wants it that way. We can’t know if Invidia is going to betray us at the last moment. But assuming that she appears to be telling the truth, the only question is whether or not we pit ourselves against her knowing that it could be a trap and we could be walking to our deaths. For that matter, even if she is sincere, we might still die.”

          “Maybe we should bring Forcia, Attica, and Riva,” Raucus suggested.

          “They’ve never been fighters, I’m afraid,” said Cereus, shaking his head. “In a close-quarters fight, they’d be more dangerous to us than to the Vord.”

          I thought of Invidia’s plea to enlist as many High Lords as possible. We needed all the power we could get, but Cereus made a good point. Non-fighters would likely do more harm than good on a mission like this. “I agree.” I looked around the table, meeting their gazes, and rose from my seat. “This will be an extremely dangerous mission. As such, I will not order all of you to undertake it. Just know that it is likely that the fate of Alera itself will hinge on its outcome. I’ll be going, as it’s my duty as a Princeps of this Realm. Who will stand with me?”

          “It’s up to us,” said Sandos, “and I don’t think we’re going to get a better chance. I don’t think we have a choice, even if it is a trap.” He stood. “I’m in.” Aria followed suit, intertwining her fingers with his.

          Raucus was the next to stand, patting me on the arm as he rose. To my surprise, Cereus stood as well.

          “Maybe I’ll finally get to see you get knocked on your ass,” said Phrygia as he took his place beside Raucus.

          “When we get back, you and I are going to have a talk in which you lose your teeth,” Raucus growled. “Because I’m going to knock them out of your head. With my fists.”

          “I think we all understood what you meant at the end of your first sentence, dolt,” Phrygia retorted. I tried to suppress a laugh and failed. A few of the others stared at me before giving in to chuckles of their own.

          “Boys, boys,” said Aria, “it doesn’t matter unless she’s telling the truth about the next attack, in any case. Until then, we’re not changing any plans, yes?”

          I nodded. “We wait and watch. We’ll have another meeting at Garrison to discuss matters as they stand after the attack. If she’s telling the truth, we’ll know in about three hours. For now, I want all of you to prepare yourselves for the next attack. Dismissed.” Once they were gone, I headed back to my room to get a bit more rest before donning my armor and heading out to the wall. The same sense of calm I’d felt all day settled over me once more. Somehow I was certain this would all be decided in the next couple of days, one way or another. The fate of Alera hung in the balance. I was prepared to do everything in my power to ensure the Realm would survive. Even if I failed, at least I’d die knowing I’d done everything I possibly could.

          _I will not fail._

_I cannot._


	11. The Test

          It was four hours before dawn when the Vord attacked. After my brief nap, I’d met with the Calderons to discuss how we might counter the coming attack without giving anything away. I hoped the few preparations we made would be enough to hold the Vord at bay for a little while. The moon had disappeared behind the mountains, leaving only a few stars to light the sky. Furylamps on the wall provided the only other light. I stood at the command station with the Calderons, my eyes fixed on the horizon. The Vord came at us very suddenly with little warning. We only saw them once they were close enough for the light of the furylamps to catch on their shiny chitin. They charged forward in total silence this time, moving with a ferocity they’d lacked in the earlier engagements. It seemed what Invidia said about the Queen was right—she was eager for this to be over. Well, that made two of us. I ordered every Knight Ignus and Citizen with the necessary crafting abilities to hit the Vord with a series of small fireblasts, just as at Riva. This time, I joined them. My own red fireblast connected with the others to form a solid wall of fire in front of the Vord.

          The fire brought their charge to a halt. They died by the hundreds, then the thousands as they ran into the curtain of flame. When it began to falter, we reinforced it with more small fireblasts. I had to resist the temptation to make mine a bit larger and stronger than the others. It was true that I’d done very little crafting over the last day and my strength was undiminished, but I judged it best to save my strength for when it was needed most. If everything went according to plan, I would have need of it soon. On the plain, the bodies of dead Vord began to pile up once again. The wall of flame flickered and waivered as Knights and Citizens alike began to collapse from exhaustion. They had done their jobs.

          I signaled for every Knight Flora and Citizen who could use a bow to take their places. As soon as they were in position, I took up my own bow and nocked an arrow. I’d opted to go without my armor and wore only flying leathers just for this purpose. My intuition regarding the bow this morning had proved to be correct—I would put it to good use tonight. Beside me, Bernard readied his own bow. “Fire!” I shouted, loosing my arrow. Along the wall, every archer did the same. Arrows fell like a deadly rain, so many I daresay they’d have blotted out the sun had it been daytime. With the limited light, we had to trust in our woodcrafting even more than usual. Aiming in the dark was considerably more difficult, though at least the greater light at the command station enabled us to see our targets better. There were a few other archers there besides Bernard and I and we fired as quickly as we could. I restricted my arrows to the standard metal-tipped variety, electing to save the stone- and salt-tipped ones for when I needed them. There was a decent chance I’d have to put one through Invidia’s back or shoot her out of the sky when her inevitable betrayal came. As such, I’d removed them from my quiver so I wouldn’t have to check the color-coding on each arrow before firing.

          The Vord continued to die in huge numbers as each volley of arrows made contact. Even so, they continued to come at us. The arrows hardly seemed to slow them down. On my left, Bernard was firing even quicker than I was. I hadn’t seen his woodcrafting skills on full display until now and I was impressed. He was a better archer than I was, though his wood fury was undoubtedly weaker than mine were. I did try to practice my archery frequently and occasionally went hunting to keep my skills sharp, but the simple fact remained that I had to divide my attention across multiple furycrafting disciplines. Bernard only had to master two.

          I lowered my bow and surveyed the plain. The first groups of mantis-form Vord reached the wall and drove their scythe-arms into the granite, trying to gouge out footholds. I signaled for the archers to withdraw to their second positions and heavily-armored _legionares_ took their places. “Time to give them another taste of the mules,” I said, then turned to one of the trumpeters attending the command group. “Signal them to fire.” He saluted and played a quick signal. A moment later, the mules went to work. Smaller loads of spheres than we’d used earlier arched over the wall and crashed into the Vord. The ground in front of the wall became an inferno and the air was soon filled with smoke and the familiar smell of burning Vord. But unlike last time, the blasts barely slowed them down. The Queen’s iron will was in them now, driving them relentlessly forward with the sole objective of destroying us. They would endure things that would break a normal army if she willed them to do it. The mules fired again and again, but the Vord continued to advance on the wall. It wasn’t long before they managed to gouge out enough footholds to reach the top. Had the situation been different I’d have done more to prevent it, like have Knights Ignus and Terra destroy the ramps of dead Vord, but the Knights Ignus were recovering from their earlier exertions and I wanted to keep the Knights Terra in reserve in case we needed them later. There’d been no sign of the giant Vord Invidia had described, nor of the Vordknights. Was my guess wrong and this was indeed a trap? _No,_ I assured myself _. I know Invidia better than anyone._ I had to trust my intuition.

          All along the wall, _legionares_ fought the Vord with determination. The first assault was driven back from the wall, only for another to take its place. I carefully kept my expression calm as I watched the battle. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, even with my experience of war, as I watched _legionares_ be caught on the mantis Vord’s scythe-arms and fall into the seething mass of Vord below. “This is getting tight,” muttered Bernard. “They’re pushing harder than they did before.”

          “Should we retreat?” Amara asked me, not quite succeeding in keeping the fear out of her voice.

          “No. Not until we know,” I replied calmly. My words did little to reassure her, as evidenced by the wave of fear and horror that hit me from her. I trusted she would keep her fear in check and not allow it to interfere with her duty. Bernard by contrast was as solid and stoic as ever.

          A crackling sound could be heard in the distance. I looked to the sky to see fire-spheres in colors of ice blue and green light up the sky. I could just make out black shapes swarming around them—the Vordknights had arrived. “Just as Invidia said,” I observed. “They’re trying to sneak around the back to take out the mules. Unfortunately for them, the northerners saw them first.”

          “Glad they aren’t directly overhead,” said Bernard.

          No sooner had he spoken that more Vordknights appeared, heading straight for the mules. This we’d been able to prepare for. The teams of archers had taken up guard positions around each of the mules and they began shooting down the Vordknights with deadly accuracy. One of the slain Vordknights fell onto one of the supply wagons of spheres, causing it to explode. I couldn’t help but wince as the blaze devoured the nearest mule and its entire crew, archers and all. Bits of wood from the destroyed wagon scattered in all directions, some striking nearby _legionares_.

          I set my bow and quiver against the crenellations, then unpinned my cloak and placed it over them. The time had come for me to do my part against the Vordknights. “Signal an aerial attack,” I instructed the trumpeter. “Bernard, you’re in command here until I return. I won’t be gone long, just enough to assist the others and do some damage of my own.” Bernard nodded as the trumpeter sounded the call. In an instant I was in the air, along with hundreds of Citizens and Knights Aeris as well as most of the High Lords. The nearest group began to cheer as soon as they noticed I was there.

          “Your Highness!” shouted the Citizen leading the nearest group of Knights. “Are you here to fight with us?”

          “For the moment, yes.” I took a breath, then hit the nearest Vordknights with a fire-sphere. My scarlet fire incinerated them completely, leaving nothing but a few blackened pieces. I followed it up with a lightning attack, then unsheathed my sword and ignited it. I judged it best not to waste my strength on multiple fire-spheres when my sword would do just as well for killing Vord. Around me fire-spheres and lightning lit up the night in a rainbow of colors. My sword was a scarlet blur as I sent Vordknights plummeting to the earth. After spending my time commanding on the wall in the previous engagements, it was very refreshing to do some actual fighting myself. Our aerial assault gradually pushed the Vordknights back and away from the mules.

          A sudden burst of light streaked across the field—a fire fury. I knew instantly that it had come from the command station, for lighting the field was part of our plan to get a good look at the new giant Vord forms. I turned swiftly and flew back to rejoin the command group. Several Vordknights gave chase, forcing me to hit them with more lightning as I flew. I soon reached the wall and landed smoothly beside Amara. In the sky, the groups that had been nearest to me moved quickly to close the gap left by my departure.

          I looked over the command staff, who’d been joined by Gram, former Count Calderon, in my absence. All of them were staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the battle. “What is it?” I asked. I was fairly certain it wasn’t me they were gawking at.

          “We… found the giant Vord,” Amara managed to say. I turned to see half a dozen enormous Vord moving toward us.

          I couldn’t keep my mouth from falling open. Invidia had tried to prepare us for these by saying they were larger than gargants, but that was wholly inadequate to describe just how huge these new abominations were. They were the size of buildings, with legs like the thickest tree trunks. Their heads were vaguely triangular in shape and ended in a chitin beak reminiscent of an octopus. Chitin arched up from the beaks to cover their heads; I doubted any spears or arrows could pierce it. No eyes were visible—as Invidia said, they had no discernible weak points.

          Almost as shocking was the realization that Invidia had told us the truth. I was fairly certain that she’d been honest about taking us to the Queen, but this was _Invidia_. You always had to take the possibility of betrayal into account when dealing with her. It was likely she was plotting to betray us after disposing of the Queen of course, but now we knew that we could go forward with our plan. However, we did have to deal with this first. We had to find a way to slow down those Vordbulks enough for us to evacuate.

          “Sir? I’d like a bigger wall now,” said Centurion Giraldi.

          “Bloody crows. _Blighted_ bloody crows,” was all Count Gram was able to get out.

          The Vordbulks raised their sightless heads and let out low bellows that made both earth and wall shake. If anyone doubted they would simply plow through the wall as if it were made of paper, those doubts surely vanished now. As they moved closer, I made out the shapes of mantis warriors and behemoths riding on their backs. _Delightful._

          Doroga joined us on the wall. The Marat hadn’t played an offensive role in this battle thus far, being tasked with transporting the wounded on their gargants. He studied the situation calmly, taking in the approaching Vordbulks. I daresay he looked calmer than I did in that moment. Perhaps dealing with a gargant on a daily basis gave him a different perspective. “Big,” was all he said.

          “Bloody crows,” Gram repeated. “Bloody, bloody crows.”

          “We… got a problem, sir,” said Giraldi.

          “Yes, you might say that,” I replied, schooling my features to calmness.

          “Bloody crows. Blighted bloody crows.”

          “I’d say get some archers and go for the eyes, but they ain’t _got_ any eyes,” Giraldi suggested.

          “No, I’m afraid the Queen thought of that,” I said with a sigh.

          “Sir? What do we do?”

          “If you’d all be quiet for a minute, I might be able to think of something,” I retorted sharply. They fell silent as I studied the Vordbulks intently. They were bellowing continuously now and panic had started to break out along the wall. I racked my brain frantically for something, _anything,_ that might slow the things down. There had to be something…

          “Their feet,” said Bernard, eyes on Doroga. “We don’t go for the eyes, Centurion,” he answered Giraldi, “we go for their feet.”

          “That’s it!” I cried, thinking back to an ancient Romanic text I’d read years ago. Amazing how the mind could dredge up buried memories thought long-forgotten. It was a long and difficult text, full of names and locations that were completely strange to me. Some scholars believed this particular text was a work of fiction, despite it being identified as a history in the title. I remembered reading the section describing wars between the Romans and some other peoples called the Greeks and Carthaginians. In these wars the Romans fought some kind of massive creatures with long noses and tusks like a gargant’s. One of the tactics they’d used to deal with them was knocking them off their feet. Once the enormous beasts went down, they had trouble righting themselves. But they’d been able to get close to the beasts, while we were stuck up on the wall… “I’d say our best bet would be to change the terrain so they can’t move forward. Knights Terra could open rifts in the ground, or…” a burst of inspiration came to me as I thought back to how the Vord cooled down the burning plain at the first wall, “we make the ground muddy.”

          “Riva,” Amara cut in. “He did offer his services as an engineer.”

          A small smile formed on my lips. “Good thinking.” I turned to Giraldi. “Centurion, signal arrows. One: Lord Riva report to me. Two: General call for engineers.” He saluted and left to carry out my orders. All we could do now was wait for Riva to reach us and hope there was enough time. As we waited I had to dispatch reserves to reinforce spots where the wall had already been breached.

          After what seemed an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, Riva arrived. He was completely unarmored and looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Bloody crows,” he breathed once he saw the Vordbulks.

          “Bloody crows,” Gram agreed.

          “We have a plan to halt those things in their tracks, but we need water,” I informed Riva. “If we make the ground muddy enough, they’ll get stuck and won’t be able to move.”

          Riva gaped at me, opening and closing his mouth without any words coming out. After a moment, he recovered enough to speak. “Oh, of course. Bog them down. We’d need a river to do it in time.”

          “The Rillwater,” Bernard supplied. “It isn’t far from here. Maybe a quarter mile southwest.”

          “Possible, perhaps,” Riva said with a nod. “Engineers?”

          “Assembled below,” I informed him.

          “Aye, aye. Just like irrigating a field, only moreso,” he said to no one in particular. “Excuse me.” Riva leapt down from the battlements to join the engineers in the courtyard below. The engineers formed ranks, knelt, and laid their bare hands on the earth. Riva took position in front of them and did the same. The earth soon began to quiver.

          I turned my attention back to the battle, watching intently. It wasn’t long before mud could be seen on the limbs of the mantis warriors. The ground was wet, but not enough. The heat from the various fire attacks we’d used earlier had baked the ground into something resembling clay. “More!” I heard Riva shout from below. “More, crows take you!” A glance down at the courtyard showed me engineers pushing themselves to their limits and beyond. A few had collapsed, either dead or unconscious. Riva himself was showing signs of strain; blotches of color were visible on his cheeks even from my vantage point.

          Their efforts were not in vain. Water spread across the plain, increasing in volume until the entire area was covered. Then it began to rise. I leaned forward and placed my hands on the crenellations, hope swelling within me, as one of the Vordbulk’s feet slid out from under it. The massive thing listed to one side, then righted itself. We were nearly there… “Close!” Bernard shouted to Riva. “Can you give them a shake?”

          “Aye!” Riva called back. His face was set and determined as he gave more orders to the engineers. The earth groaned and trembled, then lurched to one side, sending all of us stumbling to the ground or into each other. Amara staggered into Doroga, who caught her before she could fall, and I only just caught myself before staggering into her. Once I’d steadied myself, I watched two of the Vordbulks let out loud bellows as they slipped and fell, just a couple hundred yards away from the wall. Their huge bodies crushed hundreds of Vord when they crashed into the ground. I picked up my bow and arrows and repinned my cloak around my shoulders. “That’s good enough. Time to sound the retreat.”

          Bernard nodded. “Centurion, the stone.” Giraldi handed him an oblong stone made of the same material as the wall. I’d have known what it was even without any knowledge of the defenses. I’d given my own stone to my cousin Eolus when I left him in charge of Aquitaine’s defenses. Bernard placed the stone on the ground and crushed it under his boot heel. I stepped back from the edge just in time to see the merlons lining the top of the wall twist into canine gargoyles. They immediately attacked the oncoming Vord ferociously—one shaped like a Phrygian sled dog smashed several Vord against the wall until the stone was stained with greenish-brown blood. The sight of them made me oddly homesick. The walls surrounding my palace were topped with many gargoyles, created by one of my ancestors long ago. No one seemed to know exactly how long they’d been there. I used to play and climb on them as a child. But there was no time to dwell on happy childhood memories now. “Sound retreat!” I shouted.

          The Legions instantly pulled back as soon as the trumpeters sounded the signal. The command group and I made our exit as the wall itself began to break up into more and more gargoyles. The mules and their crews had already moved out, and not a moment too soon—the ground on this side of the wall was growing wet. Riva and his engineers were still at work. “Your grace! We’ve got to go!” Amara shouted.

          “In a minute!” he replied, panting for breath. “Ground on this side of the wall is all loose earth. Watering it will slow them down even more.”

          “There’s no time!” I shouted. “Retreat now! That’s an order!” The exhausted engineers rose to their feet to move away from the disintegrating wall as fast as they could. . The entire battle dissolved into chaos. The screams of the dying and wounded mingled with the shrieks of the Vord and the bellowing of the Vordbulks, creating a cacophony that made my ears ache. Vord occasionally managed to break through the gargoyles, only to be met by Knights Ferrous and Terra. Their brave actions bought the _legionares_ more time to retreat.

          “My lord!” Amara screamed to Riva. “We must go! Now!”

          Riva gasped and sagged to one side, throwing out an arm to support himself. It failed to support his weight and he fell to the ground, too exhausted to rise. Amara rushed forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Get up!” She draped one of his arms over her shoulders. I moved forward to grab the other one. Together we stumbled across the muddy ground. How we were going to get out of there when we had to carry Riva I had no idea. Our best bet would be to try to fly and hope the Vordknights didn’t catch up to us. I had no idea where my horse was.

          The shrieks of the mantises grew louder. Half a dozen of them were advancing on us. Before I could even draw my sword or send a fireblast at them, Amara threw up a windcrafted veil around us. The mantises began to mill about in confusion, each making for the first moving thing it saw. A mantis charged one of the Marat’s gargants, who crushed it nonchalantly under one huge paw. “Amara!” cried Doroga.

          “Doroga! Over here!” she called, dropping the veil. The Marat chieftain turned his gargant in our direction. He grabbed the saddle rope and swung halfway down, reaching for Riva’s arm. Amara guided it into his grip and Doroga hauled Riva onto the saddle. Amara scrambled up the rope behind them, with me right on her heels. No sooner had I reached the saddle when the gargant whirled and took off, following the retreating Legions. I flung out a hand to grip the saddle’s edge tightly. The gargant galloped across the field, moving faster than I’d have thought possible. Behind us, more mantises broke through the line of gargoyles. One of the Vordbulks managed to reach the spot where the wall had been. Despite the gargant’s speed, the mantises were gaining on us. Doroga threw back his head and let out a war cry. His gargant followed it up with a bellow of its own.

          “Attis!” Amara screamed, grabbing my arm and pointing to the nearest mantises. They were almost upon us. Keeping one hand on the saddle, I sent several fireblasts at them.

          A chorus of gargant bellows broke out in reply to Doroga’s. A moment later, his clanmates charged forward on their gargants to intercept the Vord before they could reach us. Their gargants dispatched hundreds of Vord with ease. Amara was right—they were natural-born Vord killers. Between the gargoyles and the gargants, our retreat was now secure. I wouldn’t relax until we reached Garrison, but this was a start. Now that we were out of immediate danger, I took a minute to survey the scene. Bernard and the rest of the command group were nowhere in sight, but I was fairly confident they’d made it out ahead of us. We brought up the very rear of the retreat, with only the Marat behind us.

          Garrison, the last safe haven, lay ahead of us.

 

 

**Notes**

The book Attis is referring to is Livy’s _History of Rome_. If Caesar’s _Conquest of Gaul_ made it to Alera, I’m guessing other works of classical literature did as well. He’s thinking particularly of the Pyrrhic Wars and the 2 nd Punic War. The Pyrrhic Wars were fought between the Romans and the Greek king Pyrrhus of Epirus and were the first time the Romans encountered war elephants. The 2nd Punic War is the famous one with Hannibal leading war elephants across the Alps.


	12. Garrison

          Doroga’s gargant, whose name I learned was Walker, slowed his pace after we were an hour’s ride from the second wall. The ride from there to Garrison was about three hours. In all honesty, riding on a gargant wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it’d be. Beside me, Amara gradually began to relax and her fear dissipated. Riva appeared to be asleep.

          “Once again, you and your clanmates came to our rescue,” I said to Doroga. “You have my deepest gratitude.”

          Doroga grunted. “Seemed the right thing to do. My people know much about the Vord.”

          That caught my interest. “You do?”

          “There are many stories of them in Marat lore,” Doroga explained.

          My eyes widened in surprise. “The Marat have faced the Vord before? _More than once?”_

          “Yes.”

          “How did you manage to defeat them?” I asked, leaning forward eagerly. Perhaps whatever old stories the Marat had about the Vord held some valuable information we could use.

          “Killed the Queen,” Doroga answered simply. “Same as you plan to do.”

          “Oh. I hoped there might be something else we could use against them. If we have time, I should like to hear these stories anyway. Maybe there are some other details that could be useful.”

          A wave of surprise hit me from Doroga—no doubt he hadn’t expected me to show interest in Marat lore. “We’ve got time now,” he said, then launched into the story of the Marats’ first encounter with the Vord. It was somewhat of a relief to block out all other thoughts and listen to the stories. They didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about the Vord, but they were interesting nonetheless. I hadn’t known that the Marat had once had a civilization much like ours, with great cities of their own. All of that had been destroyed by the Vord, forcing the survivors to flee to new lands and carve out an existence there. Somehow that made me hate the Vord even more than I already did. Would the same thing happen to us? Well, I supposed it would be better than total annihilation if given a choice between the two.

          Once Doroga finished his stories, I noticed Amara regarding me with the same curious expression I’d seen on her face a few other times recently. I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Surprised again?”

          “I can’t say I ever expected you of all people to show an interest in Marat lore,” she said matter-of-factly.

          “And I’m wondering how exactly I came to be riding on a gargant to Garrison of all places, accompanied by a Marat chieftain, a High Lord I never had much respect for, and a Cursor who played a large role in foiling my plot,” I remarked casually. “Life is strange.” It was so ironic it was comical, really. I had to pause for a moment to contemplate the road which had led me here. In some ways it was the culmination of the one I’d started down after Septimus’s death. I had what I’d sought for so long, but I was now coming to realize what I’d lost getting there. I hardly felt triumphant, and I did not think that was entirely due to the war.

          “Indeed,” Amara replied. “I never thought I’d come to an understanding with you as I have over the last few days. I confess I thought of you as nothing more than the male counterpart to Invidia for years, but now I’ve realized just how wrong that assumption was.”

          “It causes me no end of frustration, knowing so many people think of me that way.” I laughed bitterly. “I suppose it’s partially my own fault for letting Invidia be the public face of my cause on too many occasions.”

          “Well, after spending so much time around you through all of this, I’ve seen a completely different side to you, one I had no idea existed.” Amara looked away from me and down at the saddle. “I hated you for so long, for Second Calderon, for capturing me, for subverting Fidelias. But now… now that I’ve gotten to know you, I can’t bring myself to feel that way anymore, not even a little.”

          Whatever I’d been expecting her to say, that wasn’t it. She’d told me before that she could respect part of me though she couldn’t forget what I’d done. Her pragmatism allowed her to work with me, but letting go of the hatred she’d harbored for me was something else entirely. “I’m sorry for the hurts I’ve caused you,” I said softly, meeting her eyes. “I’ve come to regret… many things over these last few days.”

          “We’re here!” Doroga called out.

          Garrison loomed before us. It was an impressive sight, much more than it had been during my previous visit. A decent-sized town had sprung up in the shadow of the original fortress, thanks largely to the Calderons and their efforts to encourage trade with the Marat. It was silent now, all the inhabitants having been evacuated to refugee camps. The fortress itself featured forty-foot high walls, twice the regulation height. Too bad it wouldn’t make a difference when the Vordbulks arrived.

          Looking at the place, you could hardly believe a bloody battle occurred there less than a decade ago.

          Emotions warred within me as we rode through the gate. I felt some relief that we’d finally reached Garrison, the place that had been specially prepared for a last stand, but it was not enough to blot out the dread that settled itself in my stomach once we were inside the walls. The feelings that had begun at the steadholt were only growing stronger now that I was here at the scene of my crime. There was no ignoring the shame and regret now. It was commonly believed the shades of the dead lingered over the battlefields where they’d fallen. Would they recognize me and object to my presence? I’d never been one to put stock in such things, but I never would’ve believed creatures like the Vord could exist either.

          There were also the memories of my only other visit to Garrison. It had been shortly after Septimus’s death, when I joined the Legions in their campaign to drive the Marat out of the Valley. Much of that time runs together in my mind when I try to recall it, as I was not exactly in a stable emotional state at the time. My thoughts were entirely consumed with furious rage and a burning desire for vengeance, and it so happened that the campaign offered the perfect opportunity. I wanted nothing more than to rip Kalarus and Rhodes’s black hearts from their chests in the _juris macto_ , but they weren’t there. The Marat were. It proved to be unfortunate for them.

          That campaign, or at least my part in it, came to an end at Garrison. My father joined us there after we’d driven the Marat back into their territory, requesting that I return home with him now that the bulk of the fighting was done. The haze of rage that had enveloped me since Septimus’s death drained out of me once I saw him, to be replaced by an all-consuming grief which would remain with me for months. Even so, it was a great comfort to be in the presence of a loved one while dealing with a loss such as I’d endured. In any other situation, I’d have protested about returning home, but now it was something of a relief to leave the Calderon Valley and the terrible events that had occurred there behind.

          Garrison held nothing but bad memories for me. I hoped this visit would prove to be different.

          We were among the last to arrive. All of the refugees were now settled into the permanent camps east of the fortress. I could only hope that this time the defenses would hold and those poor souls who’d already suffered so much wouldn’t suffer any more. If all went according to plan, we’d put an end to this horrific war very soon. The Legions had retreated in reasonably good order, despite the chaos at the second wall. While those that had taken the brunt of the Vord attack rested and regrouped, the Legions we’d sent off with the refugees moved into position to defend Garrison.

          Amara led me inside the citadel itself and to the commander’s quarters. It was home to her and Bernard, which had to have been some small comfort to them. As such, I declined when she offered me accommodations there. Instead, I’d be staying in the suite reserved for visiting dignitaries. Flavius, who I’d sent on ahead before the second attack came, immediately brought up my belongings. The citadel featured a well-appointed command room, complete with a large sand table and all the other necessary accoutrements. Bernard was waiting for us there. “Everything is in place for the next Vord attack,” he informed me.

          “That’s all very well, but none of it will matter if we can’t destroy the Vordbulks,” I remarked.

          Bernard nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Got some special arrows here with explosive tips. Might be I could take one down if I got it in the mouth.”

          I was rather skeptical about the likelihood of taking out a Vordbulk with a single arrow, even one such as Bernard described. However, it was the only idea anyone had managed to come up with thus far. “It’s worth a shot. Now it’s time we held another command meeting to discuss things as they stand now. Amara, would you be so kind as to inform the others?” She saluted and left promptly. I didn’t think anyone would have second thoughts about the plan now that Invidia’s information had proven accurate. That didn’t change my conviction that she intended to betray us in the slightest; I simply chose to withhold that particular detail from the others.

          It took several minutes for them to arrive, as they’d been scattered about the walls and citadel since arriving at Garrison. I waited for all of them to take their seats around the sand table before beginning. “I hate to pull you away from whatever activities you were engaged in, but we need to discuss how to proceed with our plan. I know all of you are tired and likely hungry, so let’s make this brief. The recent engagement at the second wall has given us proof that Invidia is telling the truth.”

          “You are still planning to accept her offer, as we discussed at the last meeting?” Aria asked.

          “Yes. I trust those of you who volunteered to accompany me haven’t had second thoughts?” I inquired, meeting each of their gazes. No one spoke up, which I took to mean they were still committed. “Good. The next order of business is the matter of contacting Invidia and informing her that we accept her offer. She will likely have information on the Queen that will prove useful.”

          “She might still betray us,” Raucus pointed out. “She could still lead us into a trap and never reveal the Queen.”

          “That she will betray us is a very real possibility,” I agreed, “however I remain convinced that any betrayal won’t come until after we’ve disposed of the Queen.”

          “I think we ought to summon her as soon as possible,” Phrygia suggested. “She may have more information about the Vord’s battle plans.”

          “But if they catch up to us and give battle soon, it is likely she’ll be occupied and unable to get away from the Queen,” Aria countered.

          “I agree. In all likelihood the Queen will want her on hand for the next attack and she’ll be unable to sneak away. Perhaps it would be better to wait for a lull in the fighting,” I proposed.

          “We’ll lose the chance to learn more about their plans,” Phrygia retorted.

          “That is an unfortunate loss,” I replied, acknowledging his point, “but it is more important that Invidia’s cover is preserved so the Queen doesn’t grow suspicious and decide to dispose of her.” The words sounded strange to me as soon as they left my mouth—a day ago, I’d have been happy for the Queen to kill Invidia. My desire to see her dead hadn’t diminished, but I could wait until after we’d dealt with the Queen. If I could wait more than twenty years for revenge on Kalarus and Rhodes, I could wait a little longer for this. “The priority now must be preparing for the next attack. Bernard, if you would be so kind as to share the details of the defenses with us?”

          He stood in front of the sand table, right beside my seat, and began his description. I’d heard the details before, during my initial discussions with the Calderons, but I listened intently anyway. “The Legions we sent with the refugees have already taken their positions on the wall and in the town,” Bernard concluded.

          “Good. We will need to establish a rotation here so the men can rest and eat. This fortress can hold for quite some time against a traditional siege, but this will not be a traditional siege. I don’t think the Vord will let up this attack once it begins. If the Vordbulks reach the wall, it’s all over. As soon as they’re sighted, we need to focus on finding a way to bring them down. Halting them won’t be good enough this time.”

          They nodded grimly, though no one offered any suggestions for taking out the Vordbulks. I could only hope Bernard’s explosive arrows would work. We discussed the defenses for a little while longer, then I assigned each of them to positions along the wall. When that was done, the meeting came to an end. I watched them file out of the room, then pulled Cereus aside before he reached the door. “Macius, I think you ought to stay here and aid the defense rather than accompany us on the mission.”

          A moment passed, then he gave a small nod. “If that is what you wish, then I will do so.”

          “It is.” I met his eyes. “Your offer was very brave—don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”

          “I understand. You fear I will slow you down,” he stated plainly.

          That was a large part of it; I hadn’t wanted to bring it up so blatantly, but now that he’d mentioned it there was little point in denying it. “To be perfectly honest, yes.”

          “No need to dance around it, your highness. I’m not offended. I understand that this is a vitally important mission and you can’t have anyone around to potentially slow you down.”

          “I’m glad you are not offended. I’ve always respected you, Macius. My father never had a bad word to say about you.”

          The corners of his lips curled into a smile. “Marius was never exactly shy when it came to voicing his opinions, as I recall.”

          “No, he was not,” I said, returning his smile. “I want you to take up a permanent command position on the wall. We need one fighting High Lord to remain in place while the rest of us are off killing the Queen.”

          Cereus nodded. “That makes sense. I would be proud to do so.”

          “Very good.” I took my leave of him then and made my way to the kitchen for some breakfast. I hadn’t eaten since the meal in the steadholt the night before and I was hungry after the exertions of the battle. I helped myself to a couple thick slices of bread and some bacon. Once again I found myself craving honey to drizzle on the bread, but there was none to be seen. I had to settle for butter. I resolved to ask Amara if they had any honey stashed away somewhere when I had the chance. If I was going to die trying to kill the Queen, I wanted to taste honey one more time. Honeyed figs would be ideal, but I wasn’t about to hold out hope that they had any figs here.

          Now that my mind wasn’t occupied with other matters, it turned back to thoughts of guilt and shame. I felt like some kind of intruder, like I was defiling this place just by being here. _Thousands of people died, Alerans and Marat both,_ my conscience reminded me. _You gambled with their lives for selfish reasons._

 _I did it for the good of the Realm,_ part of me insisted, though not with the conviction it would’ve a few months ago.

          _For the good of the Realm? How was getting many innocent Alerans killed any good for the Realm?_ my conscience countered. _You could’ve chosen differently. You could’ve found other ways to pursue the throne, non-violent ways. You could’ve ingratiated yourself to Gaius, ensuring that he’d adopt you as heir._

          I raised my hands to my temples and gave my head a shake. I had to find a way to keep these feelings in check while I was here, otherwise I’d be no use at all. I couldn’t possibly face the Queen like this or she’d dispatch me in short order. I had to maintain my focus and clear these troubled thoughts from my mind if I wanted to survive the coming encounter. Perhaps it would be best if I visited the actual battlefield and made offerings of wine and incense to the shades of the dead. It might go some way toward easing my troubled mind at least. If that was what was needed, so be it.

          Once I finished my breakfast, I had Flavius fetch me a bottle of wine and several sticks of incense with a burner. The wine came from Bernard’s personal stores—I resolved to replace it with a bottle of the finest Aquitainian red if we survived this. With the offerings in hand, I flew over the eastern gate and down to the battlefield. The ground didn’t open up to swallow me whole when I landed, which was something of a relief. I took a moment to survey the area. The plain stretched out in front of the fortress, gradually turning into rolling hills in the distance. Some of the refugee camps were visible at the edges of the plain. Hesitantly, I took one step forward, then another.

          The battle had taken place all over the plain, but one particular area had been set aside for the mass graves of the dead. A monument had been erected on the site where the Alerans were buried, much like Septimus’s Memorium had been raised on the mass grave of those who’d died at First Calderon. There was no memorial or marker of any kind indicating where the Marat were buried. I supposed they had their own funerary customs. I took a deep breath to steady myself, then made for the monument. It was made of white marble, with a simple inscription: _Here lie those who gave their lives in defense of Alera at the Second Battle of the Calderon Valley. Let their brave sacrifices not be forgotten._

          Every word struck me like an arrow. The inscription seemed to glare at me with accusing eyes. They died because of me, because of my schemes. I was responsible for the deaths of innocent Alerans, whose lives I’d deemed disposable for the greater good. Now that I was here, I couldn’t dismiss them as easily as I had when I came up with the plan. I placed the burner on the monument and lit the sticks of incense. Next, I uncorked the wine and poured the entire bottle into the ground beside the monument. “Shades of those buried here,” I murmured, using the traditional phrasing for such offerings, “please accept these offerings and leave the living in peace.”

          I remained there for several more minutes, watching the incense burn down. When I turned to walk back to the fortress, I noticed the tall figure of Bernard standing on the battlements, watching me.


	13. Final Preparations

          It was mid-morning when the Vord reached Garrison. We were ready when they arrived, with _legionares_ in position along the wall and in the town. More were assembled in the fortress to provide backup. The Vordbulks were nowhere to be seen—I breathed a huge sigh of relief at that. Perhaps they were still stuck in the mud and the Vord were struggling to free them. I dared not hope we’d taken them down for good. The mules began firing on the Vord as soon as they were in range. I did not see any Vordknights, but I kept groups of archers in place around each mule just in case they did put in an appearance.

          The Vord attacked with much the same ferocity as they had at the second wall. The mules were killing them by the thousands, but still they charged on. The wall’s double height meant it would take much longer before they could reach the top. I had no intention of letting them get that far. After the mules fired several volleys, I ordered the Knights Ignus to hit them with more fireblasts. After a couple hours had passed and the Vord hadn’t reached the wall, Amara turned to me and asked, “What do you think about contacting Invidia now?”

          I studied the battle for a brief moment before answering. “The _legionares_ are holding them at bay. Now seems as good a time as any. Summon the northerners and the Placidas and tell them to meet us in the receiving room.” I preferred not to have Invidia in the command room and risk her discovering our defense plans. “Bernard and Cereus can handle command here. They’ll have to once we’re on the mission after all.”

          Amara saluted and left. I fetched several green signal arrows and fired them off in groups of three as Invidia instructed. We weren’t currently using that particular signal, so there was no chance of anyone seeing it and mistaking it for an order. Now there was nothing else to do but wait. She would certainly arrive veiled, so I made sure to stay visible on the wall so she could spot me and then follow me to the receiving room. Making myself so visible to a concealed Invidia ran against every one of my instincts, but we didn’t have any other options. I turned my attention away from the battle and scanned the sky for any rippling that would give her away, keeping a hand on my sword the entire time. Several minutes passed before I spotted a slight ripple heading in my direction. I waited a bit longer for it to come closer before heading to the receiving room. I glanced back periodically to see it following behind me. Once I reached the receiving room, I held the door open for a moment so she could enter, then shut it tight.

          Invidia dropped the veil as soon as she was inside. Everyone in the room abruptly stopped what they were doing. All of them save Raucus had seen her at Riva, though not so close up. She looked worse now than she had then. No doubt the sight of her in her current state was somewhat shocking to them. I waited a few moments for them to recover from their shock before speaking. “Welcome. It’s time we discussed our plan to assassinate the Vord Queen. As you can see, Invidia is joining us for this meeting.” I sat down at the head of the table and gestured for her to take the empty seat next to mine.

          “Well, I see you listened to me for once and enlisted all the strongest High Lords,” she remarked.

          “They all volunteered for the mission. Cereus did too, but I ordered him to stay behind. I fear he would slow us down.”

          Invidia considered my statement. “I see your reasoning.”

          “What exactly do you have in mind for the attack?” I asked her. “We defer to your knowledge of the Queen’s whereabouts.”

          “She’s set up her hive at the abandoned steadholt nearest here,” Invidia informed us. “She has no intention of leaving it, as she knows you’ll try to kill her if you spot her. The hive has its own defenses in the form of traps that will go off if there are any intruders. We’ll have to be quiet and stealthy so we don’t alert her to our presence before we attack.”

          “What are these traps?” Raucus asked. “Can you tell us anything more about them?”

          “There are Vord hornets with poisonous stings embedded in the _croach_ around the hive,” Invidia elaborated.

          “What of Isana and Araris? Are they currently being held in the hive as well?” Amara wanted to know.

          “Yes,” answered Invidia. “She has Araris imprisoned in the _croach_ , but Isana is free to move about. The Queen captured her in order to use her against Octavian.”

          I nodded. “Just as we suspected. Do they have any knowledge of your plan? The aid of a swordsman like Araris would be extremely valuable.”

          “No, they do not.”

          “Rari will assist us if he can,” said Raucus. “If he can get out of that _croach_ , he’ll fight.”

          “Perhaps we should attempt to free him ourselves,” Aria suggested.

          Invidia shook her head. “We won’t be able to do it without attracting the Queen’s attention. He and Isana are kept in the main chamber, where the viewing pool is. The Queen spends most of her time there.”

          “That’s unfortunate. We’ll just have to hope he can find some way to free himself and join the fight,” I replied. I did not like the idea of leaving him stuck in the _croach_ , which couldn’t be pleasant, but there was nothing to be done. The focus had to be on killing the Queen.

          “She will be preoccupied with the attack on Garrison,” Invidia continued. “She plans on using a flanking maneuver to envelop the fortress.”

          “How exactly does she plan on sending huge armies of Vord through the mountains on our flanks?” Phrygia inquired, skeptical.

          “They won’t be huge armies; just enough to hit the fortress from the sides and divide your attention,” Invidia explained.

          I smiled. “Well then, we’ll have to position some of our forces on the mountains to watch for them. I believe the new Marat clans who’ve just joined us will do nicely for that. When does the Queen intend on doing this?”

          “She’ll begin moving them into position sometime during the night,” Invidia answered.

          “Good. That’ll give us time to get the Marat in position the counter them.”

          “I believe the best time for us to attack would be in the early hours of the morning just before dawn. The Queen will be watching for the results of her flanking maneuver in the viewing pool,” said Invidia.

          I considered her words for a moment, then nodded. “That seems a sensible proposition. It will give us time to prepare for that flanking manuever. Sneaking in under the cover of night is probably our best bet in any case. Does anyone have any objections to this?”

          No one did.

          “I will return four hours before dawn to lead you to the hive. I will go in first, then signal the rest of you to follow,” Invidia proposed.

          I narrowed my eyes—I didn’t much care for the idea of putting so much trust in her, but the proposal was a sound one. “And you will do your best to distract the Queen and keep her occupied before sending the signal.”

          “Precisely.” The others looked wary, as uneasy about trusting Invidia as I was, but no one objected to the plan. We spent the rest of the meeting discussing further details relating to the location of the hive and its defenses. It was decided that Raucus, Phrygia, and I would lead the attack with the Placidas following us. They would be charged with covering our rear in case some of the other Vord attacked us. When that was settled, I interrogated Invidia about the Queen. She was incredibly fast and strong as well as skilled in every form of crafting. All of that was bad enough on its own, but Invidia informed us she could read minds as well.

          “Would metalcrafting suffice to shut her out?” I asked.

          “Yes, but it would be best not to think of anything particularly important while around her.” She smirked unpleasantly. “That shouldn’t be difficult for you.”

          “In that case I’ll be sure to think of lovemaking while fighting her,” I quipped.

          “Please do,” Invidia retorted. “It might disgust her enough that she’ll be distracted.”

          My lip curled as I bit back another quip. I decided not to give her the satisfaction of seeing me rise to her bait. Once we’d finished going over the final details of the plan, I dismissed the meeting. I watched the others file out and head back to their places on the wall, leaving me alone with Invidia. My hand drifted reflexively to my sword hilt, though I was fairly certain she’d make no attempt to kill me right now. She needed me, as much as that surely galled her. “Well, what do you think? Do we have a good shot at taking her down?”

          “Yes, I think so, though some may well die in the attempt.”

          “It’s worth the risk.” I smiled and gave a small laugh. “Looks like you and I will be going to battle side-by-side after all. I daresay my father would be pleased to see it if he were here.”

          Her smile did not reach her eyes. “Ah yes, I do recall him expressing such a sentiment. I’m surprised you even remember it at all, for all the attention you paid to it.”

          “Pardon me for not being the most attentive husband while mourning a loved one,” I snapped.

          Invidia laughed harshly. “You know, I was no more pleased about our marriage than you were. I wanted Septimus and ended up having to settle for his annoying friend instead. Yet despite my disappointment, I was willing to put in the effort to make our marriage work. But you never treated me with anything but contempt. You never bothered to hide your opposition to marrying me and then proceeded to carry on with your whoring and carousing after we were wed. Was a bit of discretion out of respect for your wife really so much to ask for?” Every one of her words dripped with venom. I had the distinct impression she’d been wanting to say this to me for quite some time.

          In truth, her feelings weren’t unjustified. Filled with grief for Septimus and disgust at being forced to marry a woman I disliked, I had no interest whatsoever in being an affectionate or attentive husband. It wasn’t until we were married half a year that we reached the compromise that made it possible for us to remain married as long as we had and work together for a common goal. But I wasn’t about to admit any of that to her. Instead, all I said was, “Have you forgotten that I never kept any dancing girls until you began buying them for me?”

          “I figured if I couldn’t stop your philandering, at least I could try to control it. Better to keep you occupied with them than have you carrying on with any woman who might make a suitable replacement for me.”

          “I can think of several who’d fit that description. Caria, for one. You know,” I said casually, “I was planning on ridding myself of you and marrying her once Gaius was dead and the throne mine.”

          She quirked an eyebrow. “Were you?”

          “I was.”

          “Well, you and I will be at quits soon, one way or another.”

          “That’s fine by me. Once the Queen is dead and this horrific war over, I never want to see you again. Aside from the war, this last year I’ve spent without your company was the best I’ve had since Septimus died. Getting you mostly out of my life has been nothing but good for me and I have no intention of letting you back into it.”

          “Believe me Attis, the day I see the last of you won’t come soon enough.” Invidia rose from her seat and walked over to the door. “Four hours before dawn. Be ready.” I opened the door and she stalked out, veiling herself. Once she was gone, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I remained in the receiving room for a few more minutes, clearing my head, before returning to the wall.

          The day passed excrutiatingly slowly; I suppose it was due to my own eagerness to dispose of the Queen once and for all. The battle continued to drag on, with neither side gaining an advantage. The Vordbulks were still nowhere to be seen—hopefully they wouldn’t appear before we killed the Queen. The Calderons and I met with Doroga and the other Marat leaders to discuss how we’d position them on our flanks. I tried my best to ignore the _singulare’s_ belt and Aleran cavalry saber worn by the head of the Horse Clan. She’d taken it from one of Septimus’s _singulares_ at First Calderon. The three falcon badges on the belt identified its previous owner as Aquitainian. Those men had been my friends too _. Let it go,_ I told myself. _No sense in bringing up old grudges now._ It seemed the Marat felt the same way. The other clanheads looked very much like they wanted to ram a spear through my chest, but they all followed Doroga’s lead and made no aggressive moves toward me. They agreed to position themselves on the flanks under the cover of night to meet the Vord attack.

         I spent most of the day on the wall, only leaving when it was time for dinner. A decent meal was important when you would be undertaking the most important mission of your life in a few hours. I was nearly done eating when Amara approached me, having just finished her own dinner. “Sire, may we speak somewhere privately?”

          I raised an eyebrow and bit back a bawdy remark. My rapport with her wasn’t quite good enough for me to judge if she would appreciate such a comment. “Certainly. May I ask why?”

          “There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”

          “Very well.” I led her to my quarters. When both of us were inside, I shut the door firmly behind us and set a windcrafting against eavesdropping. “What do you wish to discuss with me?”

          “I want to join the mission.”

          I narrowed my eyes. “Are you quite certain about that? You know there’s a good chance we won’t all be coming back.”

          “I know,” she replied softly. “Are you still certain that Invidia will betray us or do you think she might’ve had a change of heart?”

          “No,” I answered. “A heart would be prerequisite. As would the ability to admit her mistakes.”

          “In that case, I have a plan for dealing with Invidia’s inevitable betrayal.”

          “What is it?”

          “I’ll veil myself so she won’t be alerted to my presence, then take her out the moment she turns on us.”

          “And how do you intend to do that? A stone arrow?”

          “Not an arrow—a Marat spear,” she elaborated. “And I’ll bring along a knife too for good measure.”

          I smiled. “That would do it. You’d best stay out of the fight with the Queen, however. You heard what Invidia told us—you’re no match for her.”

          Amara looked as if she were about to argue the point, but only gave a small nod. “I’ll get out of the way as quickly as I can. If not, well…”

          “You are prepared to pay the ultimate price?” I inquired gently.

          “Yes,” she answered, meeting my eyes.

          I nodded. “Stay behind Raucus, Phrygia, and I. That way you’ll be close enough to deal with Invidia, but not right on the front line.”

          “I will do that. I had another thought too—the Windwolves could serve as aerial cover for us and emergency transport if we need to leave in a hurry.”

          The thought hadn’t occurred to me, though I couldn’t deny it made a good deal of sense. We’d hardly be able to make a quick exit if we had to carry our wounded, and I wasn’t so naïve as to think we wouldn’t have any wounded. “Another good idea. I’ll speak to Aldrick about it.”

          “Thank you,” said Amara. “Have your thoughts on when Invidia will betray us changed at all since the meeting?”

          “No. It still seems most likely to me that she’ll turn on us once the Queen is dead. You’ll have to wait and watch carefully. I hope you aren’t entertaining any crazy thoughts of stabbing the Queen in the back?” Amara shook her head. “Good. You’ll have no chance of piercing her with a stone weapon. I trust you will be able to acquire the necessary weapons from the Marat?”

          “Yes, I can take care of it.”

          “I’ll leave you to it, then. Be sure to get some rest before the mission—you’ll need to be alert,” I ordered her.

          “Of course, sire.” She saluted and took her leave of me. As soon as she was gone I headed off to speak with Aldrick. The Windwolves had been largely inactive in the war thus far, as I’d preferred to keep them close in order to send them against Invidia. They were eager to be given a role in the mission. We decided that the Windwolves would follow us from a safe distance so as not to alert Invidia to their presence. When that was done, I returned to the command station and remained there until night fell. All of the preparations were now in place. There was nothing else to be done but wait.

          I made sure to give myself enough time to get a decent amount of sleep before Invidia returned. I hadn’t slept since before the night attack at the second wall and I couldn’t afford to be anything other than fully rested and alert when facing the Queen. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep.

 

**

 

          I was at the bottom of some long, dark pit. Light was visible far above me. Flickering shapes moved about as well, though none were substantial enough to see clearly. They paused only to throw buckets of liquid down into the pit. In a short time it reached my ankles, then began to climb toward my knees. Low whispers could be heard coming from above: _traitor… murderer… traitor… murderer…_

          “No!” I shouted up to them. “It was all for Alera! I did for the Realm.” But even as I spoke, I recognized my words lacked conviction.

          _Traitor… murderer… traitor… murderer…_

          The liquid was up to my waist now. “I made the offerings! Leave me in peace!”

          _Traitor… murderer_

          Panic rising in me, I dug my hands and feet into the sides of the pit and tried to climb out. It was no use. The dirt crumbled away and I fell back down to the bottom. I instinctively reached out for my furies then, only to find they were _gone_.

          The liquid was rising more rapidly now and the chanting growing louder. There was nothing I could do but watch it rise. It passed my elbows, then my shoulders, then my neck. Droplets splashed onto my lips.

          Blood.

          I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The tide of blood rose to cover my head and I was drowning, drowning with no water furies to save me… I closed my eyes.

_Traitor… murderer… traitor… murderer…_

          _No,_ I thought frantically, _no, don’t let me die like this!_

          “It’s not too late,” said a familiar voice. I opened my eyes to see Septimus hovering above me, young and whole again.

          “I can’t,” I choked out. “Too much blood.”

          “It’s not too late,” Septimus repeated. “You can.” He extended a hand to me. I swam toward him but my body felt sluggish, as if I hadn’t slept in days. My feet seemed to be two lead weights dragging me down to the bottom.

          With my last bit of strength, I reached for him. My fingers closed around his hand. He entwined his fingers with mine and began pulling me upward.

          “You know what to do.”


	14. The Assassins

          My eyes flew open as I sat bolt-upright in bed, panting heavily. That I should have a nightmare while staying at Garrison came as no surprise—indeed, I’d been expecting it, visit to the battlefield aside. It was unfortunate that it had to occur on this particular night, on the eve of the most important mission of my life. To be troubled with such ravings of the sleeping mind was something I couldn’t afford. I waited a few minutes for the initial terror to subside and my breathing to return to normal before rising from my bed. As I pulled on my clothes, the last vestiges of the nightmare faded away and my mind stirred to wakefulness.

          Septimus’s words echoed in my head: _It’s not too late. You know what to do._

          Free from the grip of terror, my mind felt clearer now than it had in a very long time. I knew what I had to do.

          Flavius entered, carrying a breakfast tray. “I hope I didn’t disturb you, sire.”

          “No, I’ve been awake for a little while. You may set that on the table.”

          He put the tray down, then turned to face me. “I’d like to let you know that it has been an honor serving you all these years,” he said earnestly.

          “And it has been a pleasure having you as my valet,” I answered. I meant every word. He’d truly been an excellent valet to me, especially these last few days.

          “I got you a little something extra for your breakfast,” he informed me, “something I know you’ve been craving lately.”

          I sat down at the table and noticed a pot of honey sitting beside my plate. I smiled broadly. “You know me too well. If we survive this, you are most definitely getting a raise.” I immediately drizzled the honey on my toast and began to eat. A contented sigh escaped my lips as I tasted the delicious sweetness of the honey. It was a light breakfast, but in truth I had no appetite for anything heavier.

          Once I was done eating, it was time to don my armor. Flavius and I went over each piece and checked every strap, making sure everything fit perfectly. There would be no room for any errors today. I buckled my swordbelt around my waist and adjusted it so my longsword, gladius, and signet dagger rested comfortably at my sides. I slid a knife into my boot, just as I had previously. As a finishing touch, I pinned my scarlet cloak around my shoulders, though this time I used my old falcon pin rather than the eagle one. It was made of gold inlaid with onyx, with a diamond for the eye, and matched the falcons on my breastplate. If I died today, I’d die looking my best. “How do I look?” I asked Flavius.

          He took a moment to look me over from top to bottom. “Like a proud son of the House of Aquitainus.”

          “Thank you. That is how I’d like to look if I’m to die today.”

          “I don’t think you will,” Flavius assured me quietly. “You’ve never been bested, and you’ll have the most powerful High Lords beside you.”

          “I hope you’re right, Flavius.”

          There was no more time to be spent on my appearance. I said my farewells to Flavius and headed off to the section of courtyard we’d designated as a meeting place. I didn’t get far before I was spotted by Vitellus, Captain of my own First Aquitaine. “I’m so glad I caught you in time, sire. I wanted to speak to you before you left.”

          “You don’t need to bother with the formalities, Vitellus. What did you wish to speak to me about?”

          “I came on behalf of all the Aquitainian Legions, and also for myself,” he said softly. “We all want to wish you good luck and express that it has been an honor to serve under you and represent our fair city.”

          A rush of emotion hit me from him; I had to increase my metalcrafted shields to keep myself from being overwhelmed. Vitellus and I had known each other for years. We’d even been bedmates during my service with the First Aquitaine, back when he’d been a tribune. “Thank you. It has been an honor to be served by such fine captains. All of you have done our city proud.”

          Vitellus took a step forward and laid a gloved hand on my arm. The feeling of his hand stirred a longing deep inside me. He hadn’t been Septimus, but he’d been a good companion to me. I hadn’t been the most pleasant company when I started my term, as I’d still been sulking over not being allowed to serve with Septimus in the Crown Legion. He’d taken it upon himself to welcome me to the Legion and cheer me up. His efforts had been greatly appreciated. My eyes met his blue-grey ones and before I knew it my lips were pressed against his. Our last kiss had been some time ago, and I’d nearly forgotten how good his lips felt on mine. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough. If that were to be my last kiss before I died, I could die content.

          “You kill that bitch, Attis. I know you can do it. You kill her dead, and we’ll go home to Aquitaine,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

          I gave a determined nod. “We will see our city again.”

          He laughed and patted me on the back. “Camilla will be waiting for you.”

          I smiled. “Indeed she will. Good luck today, Vitellus.”

          “You too, Attis.”

          I continued on my way.

          None of the others were present when I arrived, so there was nothing for me to do but wait for them. I did not have to wait long. Raucus was the first to appear. “You ready, Attis?”

          “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

          The others joined us before a few minutes had passed. No one had much to say—with the gravity of our mission, it was unsurprising. Their faces were set and determined, filled with steely resolve. Amara was the last to arrive and veiled herself quickly so Invidia wouldn’t be alerted to her presence. I’d already informed the others she’d be coming on the mission and Cereus staying behind. What surprised me was that Bernard accompanied her. “You are in command here until I return, as we discussed previously,” I reminded him. “If I don’t come back, then I name you overall commander of our forces.”

          He nodded, then extended a hand to me. I took it and we clasped forearms. “I saw what you did yesterday, with the offerings on the battlefield. Never thought you’d do something like that.”

          “I had to,” I replied.

          Bernard studied me for a moment before inclining his head very slightly. “Good luck.”

          “The same to you.” He made his farewells to each of the others save Amara—they’d likely said their goodbyes in private—then took his leave of us. I turned my gaze to the sky, watching for signs of a veiled flier. After a few minutes passed, I detected a slight rippling moving toward us.

          There was a faint whoosh as a veiled Invidia landed beside me. I immediately threw up a windcrafting against eavesdropping. “Everything is in place?”

          “Yes,” Invidia replied. “When I left, the Queen was in the alcove in the hive’s main chamber.”

          “Good. Anything else we should know before leaving?”

          “No.”

          “In that case, we might as well be off.” I threw up a veil around myself, Raucus, and Phrygia. Aria made a second veil to cover herself and Sandos. With everyone now concealed, we took to the air with Invidia leading the way.

          Below us, the battle raged on. No breaches could be seen, which was something of a relief, but we’d hardly made a dent in the Vord. They surged forward, a relentless tide threatening to drown all that remained of Alera _. That will not happen. I will not let it happen,_ I reassured myself. _This ends today._

          The sense of calm and clarity that had been with me since I’d woken up from my nightmare seemed to deepen now as I flew toward the Queen. It felt odd that I should feel so calm while flying toward what may very well be my death. I hardly wanted to die, but if it were to happen, I could take comfort knowing I died in defense of the Realm. That would be an honorable death, to wipe out my crimes and ensure that my name would not live on in disgrace. There was no point in feeling any anger or terror over the possibility of eminent death. All life comes to an end. That is a fact which cannot be changed, no matter how much we may wish otherwise.

          I wondered what others thought of at a time like this. Did they reflect back on their life or only recall their happiest memories? I’d had enough self-reflection lately and happy memories would only distract me. However, I will not lie and say the faces of loved ones didn’t flash through my mind. My parents’ faces were the first ones, as warm and loving as they’d been in life, followed by several lovers I’d been particularly fond of, and finally Septimus. Aquitaine was there as well, glittering like a jewel with the light of furylamps in every color imaginable. _We will see our city again,_ I’d promised Vitellus.

          The abandoned steadholt came into view. Patches of _croach_ provided enough of an alien, green glow for us to make out several buildings. The menacing forms of Vord warriors could be seen milling about, making me glad we were veiled. Invidia led us to a large building which had to be the barn where the hive was located. More _croach_ could be seen through the doors, illuminating the entire building with a sickly glow. We landed a short distance from the entrance, taking care to be as quiet as possible when we cut our windstreams. It was a good thing I had plenty of practice at this, from nights spent sneaking into or out of various bedroom windows. Invidia dropped her veil and strode into the barn. The rest of us stayed where we were, scarcely daring to move or breathe. Several tense minutes passed. My eyes were fixed on the entrance; my heart began to beat faster in anticipation.

          A signal flare of red and blue light burst forth from the entrance. I looked at Raucus. We exchanged brief nods, then moved forward. I could see the shapes of spider-like Vord moving inside. Invidia was there as well, trying to stem the tide as they swarmed her. Raucus and I exchanged nods again, then sprang into action.

          Lances of fire in red and ice blue streaked down into the hive, arching around Invidia to strike the new Vord creatures, reducing them to charred shards of metal. Raucus and I drew our swords, ignited them, and charged into the hive. I dropped the veil once we were inside. Many more of the new Vord were advancing on Invidia. They had the shape of large spiders, far larger than the wax spiders that spread the _croach_ , and their limbs were blades. I made out the figure of Isana standing against the wall, a sword clutched in her hand. There was no time to look for Araris. Wax spiders leapt forward to meet us. We hit them with fireblasts, leaving charred bodies littering the floor of the hive.

          The roar of a windstream announced Phrygia’s arrival. “In the alcove!” Invidia shouted as she faced off against one of the new Vord. I noticed with a start that she’d been wounded as blood dripped from a cut on her arm.

          My eyes locked on the figure of the Queen standing motionless in the alcove, seemingly above all of this. “Back me up, Raucus!” I shouted. “Phrygia, you handle these.”

          “In a minute!” Raucus shouted back. “Got these ugly bastards in my way!”

          I blasted more of the wax spiders out of the way as I charged the alcove. The Queen made no motion to attack as my sword snaked toward her neck. I’d thought to take her head off before my blade came to a sudden halt. The Queen had raised her chitin sword to block my attack. The impact of it sent a brief shudder down my arm and I only just managed to parry a blow aimed at my stomach. The Queen immediately pressed her attack, launching a series of rapid cuts at me. I blocked them without expending much effort—the blows came fast, but they lacked technique. Even so, I dared not look away from her for a second. Around me Raucus, Phrygia, and Invidia fought against the metal Vord and a tide of wax spiders.

          The Queen and I circled each other, exchanging blows without either of us gaining an advantage. The sounds of steel on steel rang out around me. “Placida! Bloody crows, we could use a hand here!” Raucus shouted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Aria charge into the hive, dispatching more wax spiders as she came. Her falcon fire fury manifested a moment later and she sent it at the metal Vord. There was a small explosion and soon the remains of the Vord were embedded in the _croach_ -covered wall. “Thank you!” Raucus yelled to her. He thrust his flaming sword into a metal Vord, then expanded the flames into a fire-sphere. The Vord exploded into a series of shards.

          “Nice one!” I called to Raucus. No sooner had the words left my mouth then he was by my side, his sword deftly parrying the Queen’s strikes. There was no need for any verbal communication—we’d done this countless times before in the fencing hall at the Academy. While he blocked the Queen’s blows, I attacked. My sword slid past her defenses and I drove it into her chest, drawing strength from the earth to ensure it pierced her chitin. The Queen let out a brassy, metallic scream that made my ears ring before Raucus took her head off with a single blow. I yanked my sword out of the Queen’s chest as she fell.

          Phrygia and Aria rushed over to us. Isana’s voice cut through the hive before I could begin to process what had just happened. “No! That…”

          “People! The bitch has called in her pets! Hurry!” came Sandos’s voice from outside.

          _“… is not the true Vord Queen!”_

          I sensed the pieces metal coming toward me mere seconds before they reached me. I jumped backward to avoid most of them and redirected more with a bit of metalcrafting. Others I knocked out of the air with my sword. However, there were too many for me to effectively stop them all. One sliced across my upper arm, just below the leather straps of my armor, while another grazed my thigh. Raucus and Aria were defending themselves about as well as I was, but Phrygia wasn’t fast enough. Shards of metal struck him in the eyes and blood spurted out from the sockets. “Invidia, you treacherous bitch! I knew you’d betray us!” I snarled, wondering where Amara was. Now would be the time to ram that Marat spear through her black heart…

          My attention was pulled away from Invidia by movement within the alcove. A small figure in a dark cloak jumped down from the roof and charged at us. Her chitin sword flashed out and took off the helpless Phrygia’s head before any of us could move to defend him. She lashed out at Aria next, her sword biting deep into Aria’s leg before she could raise her own sword to defend herself. Aria crumpled to the ground, landing awkwardly on her wounded leg. “Guntus!” Raucus cried in anguish. He moved forward to meet the Queen, sword ignited. I ignited my own sword and took my place by his side.

          So this was the Vord Queen. This was the creature responsible for so much mindless death and destruction. I was surprised by how human she looked. No, not human—there was something distinctly Marat about her, from her face to her white hair. She looked like some kind of bizarre Marat-Vord hybrid. She was also naked beneath her tattered black cloak, but that was hardly a distraction. I couldn’t think of anything less appealing. My world narrowed to the Queen and the steady figure of Raucus at my side. Invidia might very well be creeping up from behind to stab me in the back, but I couldn’t worry about that now. The Queen moved almost too quickly to see; I called upon my wind furies to enhance my own speed. But even with their aid, her movements were still somewhat blurred.

          “Just like old times!” said Raucus. It was a good thing we’d fought side-by-side in so many practice rounds. If we hadn’t, I daresay the Queen might’ve overcome us. We moved with perfect coordination, attacking and defending in turns. It was enough to keep us from being easy kills at least. I’d never fought anything as fast and strong as the Queen and it wasn’t long before her sword found its way past our defenses. I was a second too late with a parry and she slashed Raucus across the chest. She lunged at me next. I jumped backward, but not fast enough. Her sword parted my armor like cloth and scored a long slash across my ribs. I let out a gasp as sharp pain erupted from the wound. I gripped my sword tightly, focusing my metalcrafting on blotting out the pain as I set about healing the wound. It didn’t take me long to realize the sword was poisoned.

          “Sandos!” Aria screamed from somewhere behind me. The Queen made a gesture and a heavy thudding sound could be heard, like a large door being shut. I didn’t have to look back at the entrance to know we’d just been trapped.

          Raucus and I fought on against the Queen. My strokes began to slow as the poison took effect. I had to put more effort into my healing to hold it off and call upon additional windcrafting and earthcrafting to have any chance of keeping up with her. Beside me, Raucus began to falter as the Queen’s sword pierced him in the side. She followed it up with another slash across the chest, moving so quickly her movements were a blur. He cried out in pain and his sword fell from his hand. Before she could finish him off, I shoved him aside and planted myself firmly in front of him. Maybe if he could reach Isana, she could heal him…

          I faced the Queen alone.

          Her sword sliced across my thigh, just above where the steel shard had struck me. Pain shot up my right side before I numbed it with more metalcrafting. The Queen pressed me hard with a flurry of attacks. I parried them desperately, hoping her lack of training would show and she’d give me an opening, _any_ opening…

          A searing pain erupted just above my left hip. The Queen yanked her sword out of me, then slashed at my stomach. I got my sword up just in time to keep her from disemboweling me, but not enough to prevent another wound. The edges of my armor were green and corroded from their contact with her sword. I stumbled backward, holding my sword at the ready to counter her next attack as best I could. It never came. More metal Vord fell from holes in the ceiling, forming a wall of blade limbs between me and the Queen.

          “Invidia,” the Queen began. She spoke perfect Aleran, though her voice had an undeniably alien quality to it. I suppressed a shiver. “You thought that you would allow the High Lords to exterminate me. Then you, in turn, would exterminate them—disposing of nearly every Aleran still alive who could match your power. Did you think me a fool?”

          Invidia stepped back, blood still dripping from her wound. Her eyes were wide with fear.

          “You have no need to fear me,” the Queen continued. “It is a weakness over which you have no control, Invidia. I simply planned to take your shortcomings into account. It was not difficult to remove a junior queen’s higher functions and reshape her into the lure for the trap. I regard your treachery as a minor shortcoming of character, in the grand scheme.”

          “You aren’t going to kill me?” Invidia whispered.

          I didn’t know why the Queen chose to address Invidia instead of finishing me off, but I chose not to question my good fortune. I was able to focus all of my attention on healing my wounds as best I could. I crept back toward the wall of the hive, where Isana still stood. Aria and Raucus had managed to drag themselves over to her.

          “I do not condemn a slive for its venom, a hare for its cowardice, an ox for its stupidity—nor you for your treason. It is simply what you are. There is still a place for you here. If you wish it,” the Queen informed her.

          “Traitor,” Aria hissed.

          Invidia looked back and forth from me to Aria, then to the Queen. She stood frozen in place, clearly torn as to her next move. Seeing Invidia looking so unsure was very unusual. “Invidia,” said Isana with more gentleness than I’d ever have expected her to show toward Invidia, “you don’t have to do this. You can still fight. You can still defeat her. Attis and Aria will help you. Sandos will find a way in, soon. And my son is coming. _Fight.”_

          “Isana was not lying about the Blessing of the Night,” the Queen countered. “Serve me until Alera has been put in order, and I will grant it to you when I release you to rule what remains.”

          “When, Invidia? When is the price too high?” Isana leaned forward, her voice full of urgency. “How much innocent blood must be spilled to slake your thirst for power? _Fight.”_

          My mouth opened and I was speaking before I could contemplate my words. “Invidia, listen to me! Forget about how much you hate me and listen! Please try, just this once, to think of something greater than yourself. You’re still Aleran. You’re still _human_.”

          The Queen glared at me, then turned back to Invidia. “Choose.” Invidia’s eyes flicked to me, then to Isana, Aria, and Raucus’s prone form. She closed her eyes and shuddered. It didn’t take any watercrafting to tell what she was feeling. Despite our words, the last bit of resistance had gone out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she bowed her head to the Queen. The entire posture was so alien to the normally proud Invidia that it took me aback. When her eyes opened, they were full of weariness.

          “What would you have me do?”

          The Queen gave a small smile and gestured to the spiders. They scurried over the _croach_ , bearing Phrygia’s sword. They deposited it at Invidia’s feet.

          “Take the weapon,” said the Queen, “and kill them all.” She pointed to me. “You can start with him. You’ve told me again and again how much you desire to kill your former mate. _Do it now.”_


	15. The End

          Invidia’s eyes flicked over to me, then back to the Queen.

          “Do not make a fatal mistake, Invidia,” the Queen continued. “One more dead Aleran means nothing to me. Nor should a few more matter to you, at this point. Kill them. I will keep my word to you.”

          Invidia bit her lip for a moment, then made her decision. Her fingers closed around the hilt of Phrygia’s sword. As soon as she lifted it, the weariness and uncertainty she’d shown a minute ago vanished, to be replaced by her usual cold resolve. Her icy grey eyes locked on me and I felt hate pouring off her in waves. “You brought this on yourself, Attis.”

          I gripped the hilt of my sword as tightly as I could and stood straighter. “Come at me, then.”

          She took a step toward me, sword raised. The image was very similar to our aborted duel on the rooftop in Riva. I ignited my sword, though the firecrafting took more effort than usual.

          Her advance was halted before it began.

          The jagged tip of a bone spear erupted from Invidia’s chest, just below her breasts and the Vord creature. Her eyes went wide as her back arched in agony. A hand clutching a bone knife suddenly appeared from behind a veil and slashed her throat from ear-to-ear. I watched, transfixed, as Invidia fell. Blood poured from the gash in her throat, forming a red pool against the green of the _croach_.

          Amara emerged from her veil, clutching the bloody knife. She stood over Invidia and whispered, “Thus are you served in Alera, traitor.”

          Both Invidia’s body and the Vord creature twitched several times as the life flowed out of her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her breath rattled as she breathed her last. Then she went still.

          Invidia, the woman who’d been my wife and the bane of my existence for more than twenty years, was dead.

          At long last, I was truly free of her.

          I stared at Invidia’s corpse for a few more moments, letting the fact that I was finally rid of her for good sink in. Amara yanked the spear out of Invidia’s chest as Isana stared at her, mouth wide in astonishment. The Queen watched the scene with an impassive expression, though I felt a flare of anger from her. She stepped forward, the metal Vord parting to let her through. Amara stood facing her, weapons in hand. _“That,”_ said the Queen precisely, “was inconvenient.”

          “In what way?” Amara inquired in a flippant tone. I wanted to shout at her, to tell her to get out before the Queen killed her, but then I noticed Isana placing her hand on Raucus’s wounded chest. Amara was buying us time by distracting the Queen, knowing it would likely come at the cost of her own life. I lowered my sword and took this opportunity to focus on my own healing.

          “She was… uniquely useful to me,” said the Queen.

          “She’s still useful. You can eat her,” said Amara as she flicked Invidia’s blood off her spear.

          “I’m not so sure about that. Invidia’s like to give you indigestion,” I quipped.

          The Queen ignored my comment. “Her. And you.”

          Amara lifted her spear in a silent challenge and bowed mockingly to the Queen. When she assured me she was prepared to pay the ultimate price, she’d meant it. She and the Queen charged at each other with windcrafting-enhanced speed. Amara flung the stone knife at the Queen, who deflected it with her sword. Amara used the brief distraction to slide past her. She rolled beneath a blow aimed at her head, then leaped forward and flung the bone spear at the Queen. The Queen shattered it with a single swipe of her sword. “I had a bond with her. Why was such a thing so difficult to notice until it was gone?” she pondered, advancing on the now-weaponless Amara. “This isn’t fun anymore.”

          The Queen flicked her wrist idly and suddenly I knew what was about to happen before it did. There were Vord hornets with poisonous stings embedded in the _croach_ , Invidia had warned us. Just as a high-pitched buzzing began to fill the air, I sprang into action. Drawing upon some reserve of strength deep within me, I hurled a fire-sphere at the hornets as they emerged from the _croach_. It incinerated all of them well before they could reach Amara. Both she and the Queen jumped back in surprise. I noticed with some satisfaction that the Queen hadn’t avoided the fire entirely and was slightly singed. “Amara, get out of here!” I shouted, hoping she could veil herself and hide while the Queen’s attention was on me. “Get out of here NOW!”

          I was well-aware that everyone in the hive was now staring at me. The Queen took a few steps in my direction; I casually shifted into a fighting stance. I knew I had little chance of besting her in my current state, but I was not going to give up, not while there was breath left in my body. “You,” she hissed at me. “You have irritated me for far too long, Pretender.”

          “Funny, I could say the same of you.”  
          Behind the Queen, Amara disappeared under a veil.

          “Invidia told me everything about you. I know you, Gaius Attis. I know what you have desired for years. But you will only ever be a pretender to the throne if you persist in your current course. Because you have proved a worthy adversary, I will offer you a choice. Join me and I will let you rule over the remaining Alerans once this conflict is over.”

          My eyes darted over to Isana, who was still tending to Raucus, then met the Queen’s glittering black gaze. _My son, Attis._ “Rule over a dying realm built on bones? No. I’ll die before I’ll betray my people and my country. You’re right about one thing, though—I’m not the rightful First Lord of Alera. Gaius Octavian is.”

          The waves of shock which hit me from Isana were so intense I nearly fell to my knees—I’d been forced to focus my metalcrafting to dull the pain of my wounds, leaving my shields weaker than usual. I could feel Isana’s eyes on me, staring as if I’d suddenly sprouted wings. Even the Queen seemed momentarily taken aback. She blinked once, then spoke again. “I see you’ve made your choice. It is of little consequence. Gaius Octavian is likely dead, and you will join him presently.” She made a gesture identical to the one she’d made moments ago, alerting me to what was coming. I reacted quickly, sending a fireblast at the swarm of hornets emerging from the _croach_. Most of them were reduced to piles of ash, but not all. It was the best I could do, as I hadn’t the energy for another fire-sphere. I soon felt a searing, stabbing pain, worse than my other wounds, as a hornet made contact with my arm. Another hit me in the thigh, beside the slash from the Queen, while yet another struck my neck. I lost my grip on my metalcrafting as a hornet stung my wrist through my heavy leather glove and my sword fell from my fingertips. I couldn’t help but cry out in pain as the poison from the stings coursed through my body. It was a hot, burning pain, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I had to focus all of my attention on restoring my metalcrafting so that I didn’t lose all sense of what was going on around me, and even then it only numbed the pain somewhat. To my left, more hornets attacked Aria, who tried desperately to fend them off. They stung her multiple times and soon she was lying on the floor of the hive, convulsing.

          My wounded leg gave way beneath me and I joined her. _Focus… try to heal… enough to keep fighting…_ But even as I tried, I knew it was in vain. The poison had spread quickly and there was no part of my body that wasn’t in pain. It was impossible to heal this without a tub, if indeed it could be healed at all…

          The Queen’s gaze was now focused on Isana. She clutched the sheathed sword in her hand tightly, poised to draw it, when a metal hand reached out from the _croach_ to take the sword.

          A man stepped forward, armored from head-to-toe in gleaming steel. No, not armored—his skin was in fact metal. Such a feat was perhaps the highest form of metalcrafting, something considered to be almost mythical. If I hadn’t heard the reports of Gaius doing it at Alera Imperia, I’d have remained skeptical that it could be done at all. I did not think I could manage such a feat myself, despite my metalcrafting skill. But if anyone other than Gaius could do it, it was the greatest swordsman and metalcrafter in Alera.

          Araris Valerian faced the Queen. “You will not touch her.” The Queen bared her teeth at him in a hiss, then sent another swarm of hornets in his direction. They bounced harmlessly off his steel skin. He continued to walk forward, ignoring them completely as one hand closed around the hilt of his sword. “All right,” he said quietly. “My turn.”

          The next moments were too much for me to make out clearly through the haze of poison taking hold of me. Araris and the Queen charged each other, moving so quickly their swords were blurs. All I knew was that when they parted, a cut was visible on the Queen’s cheek. That seemed to anger her, and she motioned for the metal Vord behind her to attack Araris. I let out a short laugh, which caused another burst of fresh pain across my ribs. The Queen hadn’t spent countless hours training with Araris in the Academy’s fencing hall like I had. She might’ve thought those things could hold him; I knew better.

          Sure enough, Araris dispatched them with ease. He barely even moved his feet. The Queen charged him again, their swords flashing in a flurry of sparks. This contest ended with a cut on the Queen’s other cheek, identical to the first. “Speed isn’t enough,” said Araris gently. “Not by itself. Your technique is sloppy. You haven’t drilled enough.” Only he would lecture the Vord Queen about swordplay in the middle of a duel.

          The Queen studied him for a moment, lips curling into a slow smile. “Metal skin. Impressive. Painful?”

          “Quite,” Araris replied.

          She made another gesture and the hive immediately began to grow colder. My armor suddenly felt like ice, cutting through the padding I wore beneath it to send spears of deadly cold through me. This, combined with the poison, pushed my metalcrafting to its limits and an anguished scream escaped my throat. Araris cried out as well as ice crystals formed on his metallic skin. “And now more so,” said the Queen. She followed up her statement with another attack on Araris. He let out a pained scream and agony surged out of him, so strong that it left me incapable of doing anything or even thinking in my weakened state. The fight continued, with me unable to focus on what was happening. Somehow I retained enough clarity of mind to reach for my signet dagger. There was another fresh burst of pain as my shaking hand closed on the hilt. With what little strength remained to me, I focused on shielding myself as best I could. All I could do was dull the pain and mute the agony hitting me from Araris.

          A web of cracks had appeared on his metallic skin. The Queen had him on one knee before her, ready to deliver the final blow. “You cannot stop me,” she taunted him, igniting her sword. “None of you can stop me!”

          He’d been my friend, once. He might’ve been damn near ready to challenge me to the _juris macto_ during our last meeting, but that didn’t change the past. I had to do something. Gritting my teeth against the burning pain coursing through my body, I drew my signet dagger and hurled it at the Queen. At the same moment, Isana seized the water in the pool and sent it at her. She dodged my dagger, then extended a hand to pull the water out of Isana’s control. She sent it crashing into Araris and a fresh wave of pain hit me from him. _Perhaps I shouldn’t have thrown that dagger…_ my hands were twitching and shaking too badly now, too much for me to grasp the hilt of my gladius.

          “Grandmother,” said the Queen, addressing Isana, “you have one chance to live. Agree to govern the postconflict Alerans and to assist me in my current efforts, and I will spare your life and your mate’s.”

          Isana looked the Queen square in the eye and shook her head.

          “So be it,” said the Queen.

          Somewhere above us, trumpets began to blare—Legion trumpets. Even while dying of poison, I recognized the sound. They could mean only one thing—Octavian was here. The Queen knew what they meant, too. “No. No, he cannot be here. _Not yet.”_

          The ground began to shake, sending fresh waves of pain through my body. Outside, the mantis warriors began to shriek. “Kill them!” the Queen snarled. “Kill them all!” Something about her tone reminded me of a child throwing a tantrum. She crouched, then leapt up through one of the holes in the ceiling and clawed her way out. As soon as she was gone, the remaining metal Vord advanced on us.

          _This is it. I’m going to die._ I was completely defenseless in a hive surrounded by Vord. Most of the others were in little better shape. At least I died well, fighting to the bitter end. The edges of my vision were going dark as I watched Araris engage the metal Vord…

          A pair of hands suddenly pulled me upward and soon my head was resting in someone’s lap, their arms wrapped around me. _Camilla? No, she’s in Aquitaine…_ “No!” a woman cried between muffled sobs. “Attis, please! Hold on! You’ve got to hold on, just a little bit longer. Please stay with me, please…” Her words trailed off as her sobs grew louder. The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

          The sound of steel clashing against steel rang out as Araris dispatched the last of the metal Vord. “Please… please… you’ve got to hold on…”

          My vision went dark. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away. What exactly happened to the soul after death? Would mine haunt this hive forever? If the Vord won, there would be no one left to raise a Memorium for me or make offerings to appease my spirit. The woman cradling my head in her lap was still sobbing and pleading, but the sounds were growing distant.

          Now I could die with honor, making up for my misdeeds.

          Someone was pressing something against my lips. Reflexively, I opened my mouth a fraction. A hand pushed a piece of some unknown substance inside my mouth. I very nearly spat it back out. It had the texture of a large mushroom, but tasted incredibly bitter. I doubt even honey could’ve improved it. I gagged as I tried to swallow it, but a hand clamped down over my mouth so I couldn’t spit it out. “Your grace,” said a woman in a calm but firm voice, “you must leave it in your mouth and try to swallow if you can. It will absorb the poison in your body and heal your wounds.”

          With some effort, I managed to get it down. Another piece was immediately shoved into my mouth. It tasted just as awful as the first batch, but as I chewed I felt the burning pain in my body begin to recede. My eyes fluttered open. Through my blurred vision, I made out the figure of Isana leaning over me, holding some kind of mushroom. I blinked slowly—surely I was hallucinating! Why would she, someone who openly hated me, feed me a cure? “Isana…” I choked out, “…why…”

          “No talking,” she said, cutting me off. “Eat.”

          Bit by bit, I ate the entire thing. Whatever it was, it worked fast. The pain rapidly faded away as my wounds began to heal. After a few minutes passed, I was well enough to sit upright. Amara was beside me. As my mind regained its focus, I recognized she’d been the one who’d held me in her lap and sobbed for me to hold on. “You… earlier you were pleading for my life… why…”

          “Because you saved me when you sent that fire-sphere at those hornets. If you hadn’t, I might well have died before Isana could get to me.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “And I don’t want you to die.”

          I laughed faintly. “And here I thought I was done owing you. Thank you, Amara.”

          She smiled. “I wasn’t the one who saved you—Isana did. She gave you the Blessing of the Night.”

          The Blessing of the Night? That sounded like a euphemism for an act of pleasure. But before I could find out what it was, I noticed Raucus was lying beside me. He’d been stripped of his armor and it seemed Isana had healed his wounds, though the two slashes were still visible across his chest. His breathing was slow and steady. I breathed a sigh of relief now that I knew he was alive. “Raucus?”

          He grunted, then slowly rose from his prone position to look at me. “Attis? Where…?”

          “We’re in the hive,” I told him. “The Queen’s gone.” Sounds of battle could be heard from outside. “Octavian’s Legions are here.”

          Raucus’s eyes went wide. “My boys. They… they must be here.”

          “Yes,” I said gently, “and we need to get out of here. We’ll die for sure if we stay.”

          “What about the mission?” he asked, grimacing in pain as he moved into a sitting position.

          “It’s out of our hands now. All we can do is hope Octavian can find a way to beat her. I think the Queen went off to face him.”

          “He’ll find a way,” Isana assured us. “He’ll find a way to end her once and for all.” Her faith in her son was so strong that I could feel the hope pouring off of her.

          “Your faith in your son is very moving, Isana, but I’m afraid Octavian will be on his own. We are in no condition to face the Queen again.” My hand strayed to my belt. It was still a little unsteady, which made me fumble a bit while untying a small leather pouch. Once I finally got it open, I pulled out a smooth river stone. “Firecrafted signal flare. We can use it to summon the Windwolves. They’re up high, waiting to get us out of here.”

          “Windwolves?” Aria inquired.

          “Mercenaries in my service. They’re mostly Knights Aeris.”

          “They followed us, far enough back and high enough up that they wouldn’t be detected by Invidia. They’ll know where we are generally, but we have to signal them our exact location,” Amara added.

          “No good,” Araris cut in. “These holes were where the blade-beasts were being kept for a rainy day—but they don’t open beneath the sky. There’s some kind of structure above us. If we threw the rock out, it might not be visible outside…” he paused briefly to dispatch three wax spiders, “…the building,” he concluded. The metal surface of his skin was cracked and pitted on his shoulder and the right side of his chest. Blood seeped through the cracks. His eyes met mine. “Give me the stone.”

          Beside me, Isana stiffened. “No. Araris, no.”

          “Only way.”

          “I forbid it. They’ll kill you.”

          “If we stay, we all die,” he replied, insistent. “If I go, there’s a chance some of us will live.” He held out a hand to me. “Attis.”

          I tossed the stone to him. He caught it easily, then stood under one of the holes and considered it. The opening was a good several feet above his head and he had no earthcrafting or windcrafting. Slowly, I pushed myself off the ground. I had to grip the _croach_ -covered wall for a moment to steady myself, then walked over to him. “Here, I’ll give you a lift.” I made a stirrup with my hands and called to my earth furies. Araris hesitated briefly, then put his foot on my hands. “One, two, three!” With all the earthcrafted strength I could muster, I tossed him upward into the hole. He held his arms straight over his head, then slammed his elbows down on either side of the opening once he reached the top. His legs kicked several times as he hauled himself up. A chorus of wailing Vord cries could be heard, followed by Legion trumpets.

          I staggered away from the hole, finding it difficult to keep myself upright. In retrospect, that last earthcrafting probably hadn’t been the best idea. My entire body ached from the earthcrafting and windcrafting I’d used in my fight against the Queen and moving my legs took an enormous effort. I stopped only to collect my sword and dagger from where they’d fallen, then slumped down against the wall. I wanted very much to curl up somewhere and sleep, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

          Six mantis warriors dropped from the holes in the _croach._ “Crows take it!” I cursed loudly. We were really in trouble now. Out of all of us, only Amara and Isana were in any condition to fight. It seemed Isana had healed Aria’s leg, but she was still unsteady on it. Nevertheless, I felt their eyes on me. I shook my head. “I’m all tapped out. That last earthcrafting… took a lot out of me.”

          Isana nodded grimly and pulled a large amount of water from the pool, Aria’s sword in her other hand. Amara picked up Phrygia’s sword and stood beside Isana. She shaped her water into a makeshift shield. The watercrafter was no fighter, I knew, but it seemed Araris had taught her some things. The two women stood between us and the Vord; I only hoped they could keep them at bay until help arrived.

          The mantis warriors began their attack. Isana caught their scythe-arms on her shield. They pierced the water, but it did its job and she flung them to the side, then wounded one of them in the leg. She angled the shield carefully so that it might protect her from as many mantises as possible while she attacked. Amara was not faring as well. She had no shield and no armor whatsoever. As the mantises charged at her, she was hard-pressed to hold them off with only a sword. One of them moved to her left, making to attack her from behind.

          My hand closed on the hilt of my dagger and, for the second time today, I threw it. I was too weak to do much metalcrafting, but it hit its mark. The mantis crumpled to the ground, my dagger protruding from its neck. With that threat seen to, Amara was able to dispatch another with a quick thrust to the heart.

          The mantis warriors continued to attack, though several of them sported wounds. They began to spread out in an attempt to surround Isana and Amara. If they succeeded, Raucus, Aria, and I were as good as dead. I had to do something, despite there being almost no options left to me. _Almost_ none. With the last bit of strength I possessed, I drew out my boot knife and flung it at the nearest Vord. It struck the mantis square in the eye.

          I slumped further down to the ground, my head connecting with the floor of the hive. The bit of metalcrafting I’d used in my last throw was it; I couldn’t manage another bit of crafting if my life depended on it, and it likely would if Isana and Amara couldn’t finish off the mantises. Fortunately, they were up to the task. Isana moved her water shield into a horizontal position and shot a series of water discs at the Vord. They enveloped the mantises’ heads and soon they were suffocating as they drowned on land. After a few minutes they fell to the ground, dead.

          There was a thud as Araris jumped down from the hole to land beside the dead Vord. He looked at them, then at Isana. “Pardon, love,” she said calmly, “I regret that you had to see me do anything so unladylike.” I couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at that.

          Araris finished off the wounded Vord as several _legionares_ in the armor of the First Aleran dropped down through the holes. “Come with me, my lady,” Araris said to Isana, “there’s little time. There’s a team coming down to get you and the wounded out and back to Garrison, and another trying to find Lord Placida, but it’s going to be close.”

          “Why? What’s happening?” I asked.

          Araris sheathed his sword and walked over to us. “The First Aleran is about to be overrun.”

          “The First Aleran,” Isana repeated. “If the First Aleran is here, Araris, where is my son?”

          Before he could answer, a screech of seething malice and hatred rang out from somewhere above us. The force of it was so great that I closed my eyes and covered my ears. In the absence of my mental shields, it raked across my mind like claws on skin. “Where do you think? He’s fighting that,” Araris replied.

          “I wish him all the luck in the world,” I told them earnestly. He’d need it. My reservations about Octavian facing the Queen hadn’t changed. I wished I could have the faith in him Isana had, but I’d just seem the Queen kill one of the most powerful High Lords and defeat the rest of us. She was the first foe I’d ever faced to best me in a fight. If I were at my full strength, I’d have charged out to face off against her by Octavian’s side, as I’d once stood at Septimus’s. But I couldn’t even stand now…

          There was a rumbling noise and a hole opened in the wall the Queen slammed down to trap us. Several men charged in, clad in the familiar armor and black sashes of the Windwolves. Aldrick was at the front, with Odiana clinging to him as usual. “We’re here to get you out,” he informed us. They spread out across the hive in search of the wounded. Aldrick hauled me to my feet and draped my right arm over his shoulder. “Can you walk at all?”

          “A bit, maybe. I could use some assistance.” Aldrick gave a grunt of agreement. It was rather awkward with me being as tall as him, but we made our way across the floor to the entrance. A handful of windcoaches were waiting for us. Vordknights were circling overhead. The Knights Aeris of the First Aleran were doing their best to keep them at bay. The sounds of battle could be heard everywhere. My vantage point didn’t offer the best view of the action, but I could see lines of desperate _legionares_ fighting hard.

          Aldrick helped me into one of the windcoaches with more care than I’d have expected, then turned his attention to the skies. “Might be tricky getting out of here. I’ll go talk to their command.” He headed off to the roof of the barn, Isana, Araris, Odiana, and a handful of Knights Aeris following him. From the window of the coach, I could make out a cluster of figures atop the roof.

          I lay down on the cushioned seat as I waited for them to return. I was absolutely exhausted and my body was sore and aching. Every minute seemed like an eternity. The Vordknights could swoop down and attack at any moment. I wanted to be out of here and back behind the halls of Garrison, where I could hopefully rest. Finally, I spotted Aldrick’s tall form striding over to me. “Change of plans. Legion here’s in trouble. Isana requested I deploy the Windwolves against the Vord.”

          I gave a small nod. “I suppose it’s about time you boys saw some action against them, but what of us? I’d rather not wait here for the Vord to kill me.”

          “We’re taking you to the healers. They’re set up in the old steadholt hall.”

          I closed my eyes briefly and groaned. “All right, just make it quick.”

          “Aye, sire.”

          It didn’t take long. The steadholt hall was very close to the barn and before I knew it, a healer was undoing the straps on my armor. I clung to a windowsill to keep from collapsing again as she began removing pieces and setting them beside me. My gaze swept around the room, taking in the tubs and wounded. Cries of pain and agony echoed throughout the large hall. The sight of badly-wounded _legionares_ did not strike me as strongly as it had on earlier occasions. Perhaps I’d grown used to it, or perhaps I was too weary to feel much of anything. I made out the form of Placidus Sandos lying near the door. He looked to be badly wounded, though he was breathing steadily. Aria sat beside him.

          I very nearly lost my grip on the windowsill when the earth began to rumble. The discarded pieces of my armor clattered at my feet. My first thought was earthcrafting, but it would’ve taken many earthcrafters to create and sustain such a tremor. It subsided after a few moments, leaving me to wonder if it had been an earthquake.

          I did not have to wonder long. To the west, a vast figure was rising. Lightning flashed at the top of it and the rumbling of thunder could be heard. Stormclouds seemed to swirl around it, blotting out the blue sky of morning. The thing appeared to be the size of a mountain. That left no doubt in my mind about what it was.

          “Great furies,” Amara whispered from her place by the door.

          “Aye,” Aria breathed, “two of them.”

          Weariness and exhaustion took hold of me then. My hand lost its grip on the windowsill and I crumpled to the floor, at last surrendering to unconsciousness.


	16. After the End

          When I woke up, I was lying in a comfortable bed. My first thought was that I was in my own bed at home. _No,_ I slowly realized, _my bed is larger and has silk sheets._ The sheets on this bed were cotton. Gradually, I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I was in my room at Garrison, which looked the same as it had when last I’d seen it. My signet dagger rested on the bedside table—someone must’ve picked it up from the hive. The only difference was that Isana was sitting beside my bed, watching me intently. “You’re awake. Good. How are you feeling?”

          I took a moment to ponder her question. The last things I remembered feeling were aching pain and bone-deep weariness. Both of those were gone now. I felt fully refreshed. “Better, though hungry.”

          “That’s to be expected. The Blessing of the Night healed the poison, but you pushed your body to its limits with all the crafting you did earlier. You needed rest in order to fully recover.”

          “The Blessing of the Night? Would that be the bitter mushroom you fed me?”

          She nodded. “It grows in Vord hives and can cure anything. If it hadn’t been close at hand, I wouldn’t have been able to heal you.”

          I raised myself up on my elbows. I’d been stripped down to my underclothes, leaving my chest bare. My wounds were entirely healed and only faint scars remained. I traced the one across my ribs with a finger. No doubt it would fade with time. For now, it would serve as proof that I’d crossed swords with the Vord Queen and lived.

          The Vord Queen.

          I sat upright with a start. “The war. What’s going on? Where’s the Queen?”

          “Dead,” she answered. “The war’s over. We won.”

          Joy swelled in me like a wave. “You… really mean that?”

          A small smile formed on Isana’s lips. “Every word.”

          I let out a huge sigh of relief and sank back onto the pillows, letting joy and contentment wash over me. On another occasion I might’ve let out a victory cheer, but it didn’t feel right to me. This victory had come at a tremendous price. The loss of life had been staggering and truly hideous to behold. I could still see the Queen’s sword biting into Phrygia’s neck, _legionares_ skewered on the mantis Vord’s scythe-arms, Alera Imperia sinking beneath a blanket of ash and lava. I doubt those images will ever leave me. Yet despite so much death and destruction, we had survived. The Realm—no, the world—had been saved.

          The nightmare was over.

          “I’ve been wanting to hear this news for so long. Who killed the Queen, may I ask?”

          Isana smiled broadly. “My son did, with the help of some Great Furies.” You could almost taste the pride rolling off her.

          I vaguely recalled the sight of Garados rising, crowned with storms and lightning. “He woke them, didn’t he?” Isana nodded. “Very clever. Septimus would’ve been proud of him.”

          “Yes, he would,” she said softly.

          I sat up once more and stretched. “How long was I asleep?”

          “Most of the day. It’s nearly time for dinner.”

          “Excellent.” I met her eyes, finding it hard to believe that she of all people would sit beside me while I slept. “Why are you here? You hate me. Why give me the Blessing of the Night in the cave and why sit with me now?” It was a serious question, but I chose to diffuse the tension by grinning wolfishly and gesturing to my nearly-naked body. “Having second thoughts about rejecting my marriage proposal?”

          She glared at me, but I saw a note of amusement in her eyes. Her voice, when she answered, was thoughtful. “Because… I didn’t think you deserved to die. I heard what you said to the Queen, about my son being the rightful First Lord. With my watercrafting I could tell you meant it.”

          “I did mean it. To be fully honest, I’ve come to feel remorse for many of the things I did in pursuit of the throne. All of it sprang from the grief and rage I felt at Septimus’s death. I knew all about the constant strife between him and Gaius—I suppose you did as well and that’s why you chose to hide Octavian’s existence from him.” She gave a small nod. “I thought I could be the kind of First Lord Septimus would’ve been. If I’d known he had an heir then… I never would’ve sought the throne for myself.”

          She blinked slowly at me as she processed my words. Doubtless she hadn’t been expecting such a confession. It needed to be said. The situation was no longer such that I required her cooperation, but I still preferred not to have her contempt. She’d been the wife of my dearest friend, after all. “I believe you,” she said softly.

          “Thank you,” I replied. “I am glad we can move past being enemies. When it comes down to it, we both loved Septimus.”

          Something softened in her face at my words. “He meant a great deal to you, didn’t he?”

          “Yes, he did. He was my greatest friend in all the world. We knew each other from childhood,” I told her. “Our mothers were good friends and since Septimus and I were both only children, they thought it would be good for us to spend time together. It worked entirely too well and we became nigh inseparable.” I gave a small laugh, thinking back to his last letters. “Sep mentioned that he had a couple surprises he couldn’t wait to tell me about, surprises that would send Gaius into a rage. I thought he’d either gotten married, got a child on some holdgirl, or both. Turns out I was right.”

          “Yes, you were.” She hesitated for a moment, as if she were deciding what to say next, then continued. “I don’t know if you knew this, but Invidia was behind Septimus’s death. She put Kalarus and Rhodes up to it out of anger over Septimus rejecting her marriage proposal.”

          “Did she tell you this?”

          “Yes.”

          The revelation didn’t surprise me in the slightest. I knew Invidia well enough to guess at how she’d taken Septimus’s rejection. None of us thought her a threat at the time—it was only later that I began to suspect she might’ve had a hand in his death. “I’ve suspected for years. It’s good to finally learn the truth.” I stretched again and rose from my bed. It was time I dressed. Isana remained where she was, though I could feel her eyes on me as I pulled on a clean tunic and pants.

          “To answer your earlier question, no, I haven’t changed my mind about your proposal,” she remarked casually.

          “Well there’s hardly any political reason for us to marry now. And besides,” the corners of my mouth twitched upward, “no offense meant, but thin women do not appeal to me.” Her eyes narrowed slightly and I got the distinct impression that she’d heard such sentiments before. That was not surprising—in my experience, most men shared my preferences in that area. But she’d managed to win Septimus’s affections, which was what really mattered. “As much as I’ve enjoyed talking with you, I find myself very much in need of something to eat. I’m off to find myself some dinner.”

          “Of course. You need to eat—your body is craving nourishment after your exertions and the healing.” Isana rose from her seat. “I’ll go with you.”

          “Us walking to the dining hall together would be an important public show of unity,” I commented.

          “Yes,” she replied. “My son is currently seeing to his men. He should be arriving here tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you.”

          I gave a faint smile. “I’m sure he will.”

          Together we left my room and headed down to the dining hall. A decent crowd of people were already there and their heads turned to watch as we walked in. Isana had been civil and cooperative before, but her hatred of me was apparent to anyone who cared to look. This was different. This was a display of unity that would show them our factions were reconciled. I was glad of it, and not just for the political implications. It felt good to finally make peace with the woman who’d won Septimus’s heart. He’d been willing to defy Gaius and the laws of the Realm for her. I could respect her for that.

          Now all I had to do was win over her son, or at least convince him not to execute me.

          A festive mood was immediately apparent in the hall. All the fear and despair which had prevailed since the start of the Vord War were gone now, to be replaced by joy and elation. It was certainly cause for celebration. Indeed, I could think of none better than the saving of the world from complete destruction. Word of what happened at the hive had obviously spread while I was unconscious. As we walked to the high table, many people approached us to express their relief that I was recovered from my injuries. It was pleasing to know that so many were concerned for my wellbeing. Many familiar faces could be seen in the crowd, including Ehren. The Cursor was now recovered from his injuries and looked none the worse for wear. “Sir Ehren,” I addressed him, “I’m glad to see you are on your feet again.”

          “Thank you, sire. I could say the same of you.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “Could you? I assure you that you need not carry out whatever secret orders Gaius gave you regarding me. You will see the proof of my intentions tomorrow.” Ehren hastily closed his mouth on his shock, schooling his features back into a mask. Cunning and subtle as he was, he’d hadn’t expected that. I moved on before he could form any kind of verbal response.

          The captains of the Aquitainian Legions were among the well-wishers, who took it as a matter of pride that their own High Lord had stood against the Vord Queen and lived. Vitellus pulled me into a tight embrace. “It’s so good to see you recovered,” he murmured in my ear.

          “I did tell you we’d see our city again, did I not?” I replied with a grin.

          Upon reaching the table, I sat in the place of honor at the center. Isana sat to my right, due to her position as First Lady, with Bernard and Amara on her other side. If our entrance hadn’t demonstrated that the animosity between us had truly been laid to rest, surely this would do so. The rest of the table was occupied by the remaining High Lords and Ladies. I was glad to see that most of them had survived this last battle, as Phrygia’s death was still fresh in my mind. Most had survived, though not all. I soon learned that Cereus had chosen to sacrifice himself by flying into the mouth of a Vordbulk and blowing it up from the inside. I had to admire the old man’s courage to sacrifice himself in such a way. Cereus Macius had been a man worthy of respect in life; in death, that had only increased. I would see to it that the memory of his heroic deed would not be forgotten.

          Once the other tables were full, bowls and platters of food were brought out. With the threat of a siege now passed, the Calderons had decided to dip into their food stores. Indeed, the tables fairly groaned with food. My stomach growled at the sight of it and I immediately began filling my plate. It was quite refreshing to partake of a feast after so many days of rations and brief meals. I enjoy a good meal as much as anyone, especially if it has both good company and good wine to go with the food. There were so many tasty-looking dishes that I ended up taking smaller portions so I could sample more of them. Highlights included chicken in peach sauce, artichokes cooked in herbed honey sauce, and a sweet pear patina. All of it was so good that I filled two plates and emptied both of them. It was just as Isana said—sleep and food were needed to make up for my earlier exertions. The wine was flowing as well, and it was a relief to be able to indulge without having to worry about the possibility of an eminent attack. When I finally laid my knife and fork aside, I felt full and entirely satisfied. The company had proved just as good as the food. Raucus was on my left, fully recovered from his own injuries. As such, he was in a jubilant mood, though I did not doubt Phrygia’s death weighed on his mind.

          “We made it through. Bloody bugs won’t be bothering us any more.”

          “No, they won’t, though I daresay Vord hunting will likely become a popular sport. I’m more than willing to join in myself,” I replied.

          “We’ll have to arrange a Vord hunting trip, you and me,” Raucus proposed, patting me on the back. “You’ll have to come visit me in Antillus sometime.”

          I smiled widely at the suggestion—I’d always wanted to visit Antillus when I was young, but my father had never permitted it. I was still studying at the Academy then and he didn’t want his only child near the Shieldwall in the event of a breach by the Icemen. No demonstration of my superior furycrafting had served to convince him that I could take care of myself, at least not yet. “I would love to visit, provided that you come visit me in Aquitaine sometime.” He’d done so before, during one of our Academy recesses. Septimus had been there too, and the time of their visit remains one of my happiest memories.

          “I’d be happy to. Been a long time since I’ve been to Aquitaine.”

          “Too long.”

          I lingered behind for some time after the meal ended, remaining in my seat until many of the others left. It was good to chat with Raucus and the others without the threat of war and annihilation hanging over us. During our conversations, I noticed a distinct change in their attitudes toward me. They knew of my actions against the Queen and this knowledge had washed out the hatred they’d harbored for me. Some of them, such as Aria, had come to respect me prior to this, but it was good to know that I’d won the rest over. I was starting down a new path now. Second Calderon and everything else was best left in the past so that I might move forward and begin anew.

          The hour had grown late when I finally excused myself from those few who remained at the High Table. Before heading back to my rooms, I stopped at the side table where the captains of the Aquitainian Legions had clustered. Vitellus was still there, finishing the last of his wine. “Vitellus,” I addressed him, a small grin forming on my lips, “would you care to celebrate this happy occasion with me in private?”

          He raised an eyebrow. “Are you recovered enough for that?”

          “I assure you I am quite thoroughly recovered.”

          Vitellus emptied the last of his wine and set the cup down with a clink. “Good, but not Aquitainian. Well, if you’re fully-recovered, how could I possibly refuse?”

          “Indeed.” He rose from his seat and we walked back to my rooms. We were scarcely in the door before my lips were on his. They felt just as good as they had when we kissed before I left for the assassination attempt, only this time neither of us pulled away. My hands rose to tangle themselves in his dark curls. He wore his hair cut short, as was the standard in the Legions, but it was long enough for me to run my fingers through. Before long we were on the bed, pulling off each other’s clothes. The only pause came when Vitellus noticed my scars.

          “These are all from the Vord Queen?” he asked, tracing the scar along my ribs with a finger.

          “Yes. Her sword was poisoned. I’m sure they’ll fade with time, but for now they are an excellent topic of conversation. They’ll certainly look impressive to my lovers.”

          “Count me among the impressed. She got you more than once with a poisoned sword, but you still managed to survive.” There was a note of awe in his voice.

          “It was easier said than done. I would’ve succumbed to the poison for sure if Isana hadn’t fed me a healing mushroom.” He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “That’s a story for another time. There’s been entirely too much talking here.” I punctuated my statement by pulling him closer and kissing him again.

          The encounter proved to be an intense one, full of urgency and need. It had been a while for us, perhaps too long. I’d very nearly forgotten just how attractive he was, with his fit body and pretty blue-grey eyes. When we were done I lay sprawled atop him, pressed against his well-muscled chest. Yes, it had been too long since I’d bedded a man. It is true that I’m primarily attracted to women, but I’ve had a handful of male lovers who were and are important to me. Vitellus was one of them. It wasn’t long before his steady breathing began to slow and he fell asleep. I lay awake for some time after, a consequence of having slept most of the day. Of course, the excitement and elation of the war finally being over likely had something to do with it as well.

          Ever since the fateful Senate meeting when Gaius informed the assembled High Lords that the Vord had come to Alera, the war had occupied a large part of my mind. I’d grown accustomed to it over the long months since then. My brain was now struggling to process that it was all over. The reality had not quite sunk in yet. I’d just gone through the end of the world and come out to see the other side. As I lay awake with Vitellus beneath me, I gradually came to the realization that the Alera which had just emerged from the Vord War was not at all the same as the one that I’d known a year ago. There would be no going back to how things were before _. It’s the same thing with me. I’m not the same as I was before the war,_ I told myself. _I’m better now._ With that final thought, I drifted off to sleep.

          There were no nightmares this time. “Sleep well, Attis?” Vitellus asked as my eyes opened.

          “Very well, thank you. My wounds are now becoming distant memories.”

          He slid a calloused hand down my back. “Good. You ready to meet Octavian today?”

          I sat up with a start—I’d nearly forgotten about Octavian’s impending arrival. “To be honest,” said Vitellus, “I don’t think that boy would make a better First Lord than you.”

          “That boy killed the Vord Queen when I failed to do so,” I reminded him. “He is more than he seems.”

          Vitellus snorted. “That may be, but you’ve got the power and the experience needed. No one can deny that.”

          “As always, your support is greatly appreciated.” I left the bed and began to dress. I took more time with this than usual, as I wanted to look my best when Octavian arrived. My choice settled on my best pair of leather pants and the finest silk tunic of those I currently had with me. Flavius did such a good job of caring for my clothing that it wasn’t wrinkled at all. The tunic was the scarlet of Aquitaine, bordered in black. Intricate gold embroidery shone bright against the black. To this I added my gold armbands and falcon pin. “How do I look?”

          Vitellus sat up and studied me. “Like a proper High Lord, or at least you will if you brush your hair.”

          “I’m getting to that.” While I attended to my hair with brush and comb, Vitellus began pulling on his own clothes. “You ought to look your best today too, or as good as you can anyway.” I placed my steel circlet atop my newly-brushed hair. “How does your armor look?”

          “Decent enough. Why?”

          “I’d like the First Aquitaine to stand behind me when I greet Octavian today.”

          “Shouldn’t that job be reserved for the Crown Legion?”

          I buckled on my belt, then slid my signet dagger into its sheath. “Oh, I’ll have them there as well, but the First Aquitaine is _mine_.”

          “Good to know you haven’t forgotten your days with us,” said Vitellus with a grin.

          “How could I?” I looked myself over in the small mirror by the desk, making a few adjustments here and there until I was satisfied. “We’d best head down for some breakfast.”

          The next couple hours were occupied with preparations for Octavian’s impending arrival. These sort of formal occasions took time to organize, something we lacked currently. We did what we could. I would be standing in front of the gates with all of the remaining High Lords and Ladies behind me, along with Isana and both Calderons. After them the Crown Legion and the First Aquitaine would stand in formation, arrayed as if for a parade. More _legionares_ from various Legions would be stationed along the walls. The preparations were nearly complete when Isana informed us that she’d just received a watersending from Octavian and he’d be arriving in an hour. That was enough time to get everyone assembled and in position.

          Aleran _legionares_ are known for their ability to form up quickly, and that reputation was not unfounded. By the time Octavian was due to arrive, the two Legions were in formation. I stood directly in front of the gates, with the High Lords a couple steps behind me, and Isana to my right. I never would’ve admitted this to anyone, but I was feeling somewhat nervous. I wasn’t sure how Octavian would react to me. He might well decide to have me seized and executed for Second Calderon. I could defend myself or call on the First Aquitaine to come to my aid, but none of that felt right. I hadn’t gone through all the introspection of the last few days only to run away from my crimes now. I hoped what I intended to do today would go a long way toward improving his impression of me.

          “The First Aleran is in sight!” came a shout from the walls. Slowly, the gates began to open. I strengthened my metalcrafted shields so no one could sense my nervousness and waited.

          Legion trumpets sounded as they approached the gate. The officers rode through, then dismounted and walked over to us. I had to hastily close my mouth after it fell open at the sight of Fidelias. I’d thought him dead once the reports stopped coming in. There was also a rugged-looking young man who had to be one of Raucus’s sons. In the center was Octavian. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him, though I’d never seen him this close. The resemblance to Septimus was so strong that it nearly took me aback. He could’ve been his father come back to life, for he was nearly the same age now that Septimus was when he died. With some effort, I kept my expression carefully neutral. Octavian was dressed in standard-issue Legion armor which bore the marks of many battles. Indeed, he wore nothing whatsoever to indicate his status. His expression gave nothing away as he took in the scene before him.

          _My son, Attis._

          The trumpets of the Crown Legion and First Aquitaine sounded a welcome. I stepped forward and paused when I was just a couple feet from him. “Garrison welcomes Gaius Octavian,” I announced, using my wind furies to carry my voice so everyone assembled could hear, “slayer of the Vord Queen!” Loud applause broke out around me; I waited for it to subside before continuing. I took another step forward, removed my circlet, and placed it on his head. I had a couple inches on him, despite his height. “Hail Gaius Octavian, rightful First Lord of Alera!”


	17. Face to Face

          Silence.

          You could’ve heard a pin drop in the courtyard. Waves of shock battered against my shields—neither my supporters nor my enemies had expected this. Even Isana and Araris, who heard me reject the Queen’s offer and name Octavian the rightful First Lord, were not immune from surprise. In front of me, Octavian was unable to keep the shock off his face as his eyes widened. All he knew of me was that I was his rival for the throne and the man behind Second Calderon. He hadn’t been expecting this.

          To his credit, he recovered quickly. “I thank you for your welcome.” Then, in a murmur meant for my ears only, “You and I need to speak once this is over.”

          “I believe the receiving room would be very suitable for such a conversation,” I suggested.

          He gave a slight nod, then turned away from me to greet his family. I stepped aside, not wanting to intrude on their reunion. Cheers began to break out as the crowd recovered from its initial shock. To my left, Raucus strode forward to exchange greetings with the young man who bore a strong resemblance to him. Fidelias remained where he was, regarding me with a curious expression. No doubt he never expected me to voluntarily abdicate the throne. There was a certain amount of satisfaction to be had in surprising a man like him, who was so skilled at reading people. I had defied expectations; now all I could do was wait to see what the outcome would be.

 

**

 

          A short while later, I found myself waiting in the receiving room. Octavian was still meeting with family and friends and I did not blame him for not being inclined to rush those reunions. As I waited, I mulled over the potential outcomes of this meeting. I’d well and truly ceded power to him now and my life was essentially in his hands. He had little cause to think well of me. Indeed, he might very well demand my life as payment for Second Calderon. Although, I noted with some optimism, the presence of Fidelias among his trusted officers indicated he was willing to forgive. He’d seen Fidelias at Second Calderon and had to know that was him. If he did decide to execute me, I resolved that I wouldn’t resist. He was the son of the man who’d been my dearest friend in the world and I did not want to raise arms against him. My conscience wouldn’t let me do so.

          The door opened and Octavian stepped inside, shutting it firmly behind him. He’d changed out of his armor and into a plain tunic in the scarlet and azure of the House of Gaius. It made his resemblance to Septimus even more striking, if that were possible. He seated himself in a chair across from me. I saluted him, then settled into my own chair. We sat in silence for a few minutes, studying each other. His face was once again closed off and he studied me with a careful, measured look. That broke the illusion of Septimus, as it was not an expression that would typically be seen on his face. Finally, he spoke. “I think you and I ought to be open and honest with each other.” To punctuate his statement, I felt him drop his metalcrafted shields.

          “Yes, I agree that would be best,” I replied, dropping my own shields.

          “I was quite surprised when I received your message,” he informed me. “At first I was unsure of what you were talking about, but then I figured you wanted me to harass the Vord’s rear.”

          “That was precisely it. They didn’t press their attack as hard as they could have during our retreat to the Valley, so I guessed you had to be dividing the Queen’s attention. I got the idea for the watersending from your own homecoming announcement,” I replied.

          “We were in Riva when I got your message. I took it upon myself to destroy their supply of _croach_ in the city.”

          “That was well done.”

          Silence settled over us once again. I held my tongue and waited for him to speak next. Several minutes passed. I felt the weight of his gaze upon me before he opened his mouth and spoke. “By all rights, I should have you crucified as a traitor.” His tone was neutral, giving nothing away. “I was at Second Calderon. I am a firsthand witness to your traitorous deeds. There’s no more hiding, High Lord Aquitaine.”

          I inclined my head in acknowledgement of his words. “If you want my life, I will offer it to you freely. I promise I will not resist or make any attempt to escape.”

          My statement seemed to take him aback, for he paused before speaking again. “I should have you executed for what you did,” he repeated, “but I won’t. If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t have been an Alera for me to come back to. I believe your service in the Vord War balances out what you did before.”

          “I hoped that it might,” I said softly.

          “Just a few days ago, I discovered my most trusted centurion was in fact Fidelias. In my anger over what he’d done, I gave the order for him to be crucified for his crimes. He was already up on the cross when I changed my mind and decided to spare his life. I realized that a First Lord cannot allow his personal feelings to interfere with his judgements. Fidelias is a useful man and a loyal servant of Alera, despite his past crimes. I feel the same way about you.”

          “You think me useful?”

          “Yes. Whatever else you are, you are an excellent leader and a skilled politician, not to mention a very powerful crafter. I need such capable men by my side to rebuild Alera,” he replied. At his words, I felt some huge burden being lifted from my shoulders. He was sparing my life, but more than that he considered my deeds in the Vord War to be enough to balance out Second Calderon. In the back of my mind, I’d hoped it would be so. Hearing it from Septimus’s son was like absolution. Now I could lay down the last burden of my guilt and finally move forward to begin my life anew. These revelations I kept to myself, though Octavian could certainly sense my relief with his watercrafting. “And besides all of that,” he continued, “I’ve had enough death. Even one more is too many.” His voice was quiet and every word seemed heavy with weariness. It was apparent even without using any watercrafting. I could fully understand the feeling. “There’s been so much death since this war began.” As he spoke, he suddenly seemed much older than his years. I suppose in a way he was.

          “Yes,” I agreed. “Too much.”

          “What Alera needs now is healing, not more bloodshed. And that is part of why I’ve decided to give you a second chance.” His voice took on a stern tone. “You should be aware, though, that this second chance is your last chance. If you should plot to usurp the throne or raise a hand against me or any children I have in the future, your life will be forfeit. Do you understand?” His eyes bored into me, making me feel as if I’d been pinned in place.

          “Perfectly, sire.”

          “You will be allowed to keep your title of Princeps and position as my adopted younger brother, so if anything should happen to me, there will be someone capable to rule Alera. I’ve decided to follow my grandfather’s wisdom in this.”

          “That is an honor, thank you.” I hadn’t expected that either, but it told me something important about Octavian—he was not one to let personal feelings or grudges overcome his pragmatism. “I assure you that I no longer have any intention of pursuing the throne. Your truth sense will verify the sincerity of my words.”

          He studied me for a moment, then gave a slight nod. “Why did you abdicate? It goes against everything I know of you.”

          The question didn’t surprise me—indeed, I’d almost been expecting it. “I understand you are familiar with the ancient Romans?” He nodded. “Then surely you have read that they considered serving your country in its time of need, then stepping down when the crisis was over to be the highest form of civic virtue.”

          “Yes, I’ve read that.”

          “What I have done is a reflection of that.” I looked into his eyes, which were the exact same emerald green as Septimus’s. The only difference was that they were far more guarded than Sep’s ever were. “There’s something else too, something you should know.” I took a deep breath before continuing to steady myself. Speaking about my relationship with his father would not be easy. “I don’t suppose your mother or Araris would’ve mentioned this to you, but your father and I were the best of friends. We’d known each other from childhood and he was my dearest friend in all the world.” I was unable to keep the emotion entirely out of my voice. How could I, with the spitting image of Septimus seated across from me? My feelings had to be obvious to Octavian, even without watercrafting. This time, he was unable to keep the shock off his face. An intense wave of it hit me from him and I very nearly threw up my metalcrafted shields reflexively.

          “You were best friends with my father?” he managed to say.

          “Yes. I suppose you thought I was one of those who assassinated him?” Octavian’s head inclined in a fraction of a nod. “Well, I guess I brought that on myself. The truth is I was in no way responsible for Septimus’s death. Believe me, I’d have died before I would’ve harmed him.”

          There was another moment of silence, then Octavian spoke. “If you were so close to my father, why did you turn against the House of Gaius?”

          Now it was my turn to be silent as I considered how to answer him. How exactly did you explain to someone that you hated his grandfather? I didn’t know precisely how close Octavian had been to Gaius, but I did know he’d served as Gaius’s page during his time at the Academy. Isana had disliked and distrusted Gaius—what had she told him? “Has anyone ever spoken to you of Septimus’s relationship with Sextus?”

          “Araris and my mother told me a few things,” he answered. “I know they had a difficult relationship.”

          “Yes, they did. The truth is they were complete opposites in many ways. I’m not sure they ever truly understood each other. In the months leading up to his death, Septimus pleaded with him again and again to do something about the ambitious bastards who eventually killed him.” I couldn’t quite manage to keep the hate out of my voice. Even after all these years, my hatred for Kalarus and Rhodes was as strong as ever. “That is the reason why I turned against your grandfather and sought to take his place.” I chose to keep Caria and her slow poisoning of Gaius a secret. I never put the poison in her hands, but I made plenty of insinuations about us being able to be together openly if Gaius were out of the way. I knew she’d studied alchemy at the Academy and left it to her to find a way to poison him so it would seem like a natural death. But Caria was dead now, having perished at Alera Imperia, and I saw no reason why that secret shouldn’t remain buried with her. “Gaius failed to protect Septimus. If he couldn’t keep his own son and heir safe, how could he do the same for the Realm?”

          A tangle of emotions hit me from Octavian, too knotted for me to properly examine. Perhaps his own feelings on Gaius were complicated. “My mother felt the same way you do. One of the reasons she hid me was that she didn’t trust Gaius.”

          I sighed. “It’s unfortunate she chose as she did, though it’s clear she had her reasons. If I’d known about you, I never would’ve sought the throne for myself. Instead I’d have done everything I could to support and protect you.” I paused to let out a short, bitter laugh. “I thought that, in the absence of Septimus, I would try my best to rule as he would. Your father had plans, lots of plans. He intended to implement many changes once he became First Lord.”

          Octavian leaned forward slightly, his eyes alight with interest. “I know he was one of the first people to publicly speak out against slavery. What other changes did he have in mind?”

          “Well, he wanted to exert greater control over the overly-ambitious High Lords, for one thing. Their power had been running unchecked for too long, allowing Kalarus to do all that he did. He wanted to stop the rampant abuses too many of the Citizenry inflict on freemen and slaves both, making Alera a better place for those not of noble birth.”

          “I share the same goals,” Octavian remarked.

          “Beyond that, he wanted to loosen or do away with the rules regarding marriage among the Citizenry. I suspect that may be part of the reason he married your mother—to set an example. If a commoner was good enough for the Princeps, then the rest of the nobility couldn’t argue such marriages were beneath them. You know, he was originally going to marry Invidia, but he turned down the proposal. From what I heard, your grandfather was furious,” I explained. I doubted he’d heard that bit of information before.

          Octavian was fortunate that he hadn’t had many encounters with Invidia, but he knew enough of her to be shocked at the idea of her and Septimus. They were an even more mismatched pair than Invidia and I, truth be told. “I agree completely with that. A friend of mine grew up with a stepmother who abused him because his father was not allowed to marry his mother.”

          It didn’t take me long to realize he was referring to Raucus’s bastard and the stepmother in question was Antillus Dorotea. I wondered if Raucus had been reunited with his boys yet. “My parents forced me to marry Invidia, completely against my will. As a result I spent more than twenty years legally shackled to a woman I despised. If you mean to reform the marriage laws, I support that absolutely.”

          “Good,” he said with a small nod. “I intend to rule an Alera where no one will be forced to marry against their will for the sake of producing children with strong crafting abilities.”

          “Excellent. I promise you I will do whatever necessary to support you in this, even attend endless rounds of dull and droning Senate meetings,” I replied, grinning.

          Octavian let out a small chuckle. “Well, that certainly proves the strength of your support.”

          “What other changes do you have in mind?” I asked.

          “Well, one thing I intend to do is even things out a bit, make them more fair. Furycrafting ability shouldn’t be the only way for someone to have access to power, or the sole measure of a person’s worth.”

          “I agree,” I said, thinking of Kalarus and how he’d horrifically abused his power. “How do you intend to implement this idea?”

          “To begin with, I want to open up the Academy so anyone with the desire to learn can attend, regardless of crafting ability. I know from personal experience what it’s like trying to scrape together enough money to afford a single semester,” he elaborated.

          “Your father would’ve approved,” I told him. “He set little stock by furycrafting as a measure of one’s suitability for holding office. But I must ask, for my own sake, what of the High Lords?” I wasn’t at all surprised to learn that he wished to limit the powers of the Citizenry to abuse others, given that he’d been responsible for the creation of the mules, but I had to wonder if he would go so far as to abolish the position of High Lord. A good number of us had died in the war, after all.

          “I have no intention of changing the nature of your positions, but I do mean to establish checks on your power,” he answered.

          “Your mules will certainly be of use in that regard,” I remarked. “While we’re on the subject, I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing them in action. I’ve always been interested in Romanic things and I never thought I’d get a chance to see such a contraption in action. It was a real treat.”

          “I’m glad they were so enjoyable to watch as well as effective against the Vord.”

          After that last comment, we lapsed into silence again. I liked the sound of the new Alera he meant to build. Provided he could pull it off without any major oppositions or other disruptions, I was sure it would be an improvement over the old Alera we’d left behind. I was certain Septimus would feel the same way. _You’d be proud of him, Sep. He’ll be the kind of First Lord you intended to be._ “Have Isana and Araris told you much of your father?” I found myself asking him. The words came out before I could think them over properly.

          The question seemed to catch him off guard for a moment before he answered it. I doubt he was expecting to speak about Septimus with me at all today. “Yes, they’ve told me quite a few things.”

          “Well, no doubt they’ve provided you with valuable insight into him, but you should know that I knew him for far longer than either of them. If you ever wish to ask me things about Septimus, I would be happy to answer.”

          He stared at me, digesting my offer, before giving a reply. “I may indeed take you up on that in the future. For now, there is one other matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

          “And what might that be?”

          His face took on a stern, tight-lipped expression once more. “Restitution. I have decided to spare your life and leave your position and titles intact, but that doesn’t mean you will have no punishment whatsoever for your past crimes. This will consist of payments, to both my uncle and Lord Riva, for the cost of damages inflicted by the Marat invasion. If nearly a decade hadn’t passed since Second Calderon, I’d have you pay restitution money to every Aleran family who lost someone, but that seems pointless now in the wake of the Vord War. In any case Aquitaine is the wealthiest city in Alera with the capital destroyed. Surely you can afford the payments without having to tax your people into poverty.”

          I blinked slowly as I considered his statement. His punishment was a fair one, I had to admit. I was fortunate to be let off with only payments to be made. “That is true, but as of yet I have no idea what kind of damage the Vord did to the city. I do not even know if they succeeded in taking it, as I haven’t had a chance to contact anyone there. If that does end up being the case, I will need to focus on repairing whatever damage was done. I’ve always made it a point to see that my city and its people are well cared for and prosperous.”

          Octavian gave a slow nod. “That is an admirable objective. I will work out the details of precisely what you owe in the future, once any necessary repairs have been made in Aquitaine. In the meantime I will inform the Marat that you are now under my protection and not to be harmed. I need your aid in rebuilding Alera too much. That being said, they will want their own restitution. I will leave you to work that out with them.”

          “Doroga did say he and I would talk about balancing scales once the Vord had been dealt with,” I recalled.

          Octavian stood; I followed suit. He crossed the space between us and extended a hand. I mimicked the gesture and we clasped forearms. “I am glad that we were able to come to an agreement, High Lord Aquitaine.”

          “As am I, sire. This entire time, I’d hoped the issue of who is to rule could be resolved without any conflict between us. Now that I’ve officially abdicated, I will instruct all of my supporters to support you as First Lord.”

          “Thank you.” He released my arm and walked over to the door. “Between this conversation and the one I had with Fidelias, I’ve come to realize it is possible for one man to be both a hero and a villain.” With that final statement, he opened the door and strode out. I remained where I was for several minutes, my mind reeling from the discussion we’d just had. I needed a moment to sort through all of it. Foremost in my mind was relief—he wasn’t going to execute me or strip me of my title. Quite the contrary—he let me keep my Princeps title and status as his adopted younger brother. That last bit had been unexpected, almost too much to hope for. The reparation payments were an annoyance, but I couldn’t deny that they were a fair punishment. I didn’t think they’d put a serious dent in my finances, though cutting down on extravagant spending was probably a good idea in any case.

          Beyond the relief, I couldn’t help compare Octavian to his father. Septimus had many reform plans he wanted to enact when he became First Lord. The key difference was that Octavian possessed greater cunning and seemed to have more of a flair for politics. Septimus never had much patience for that. It actually made me somewhat excited to assist Octavian in his reforms. I was fairly certain now that the new Alera which rose out of the ashes of the old would be a better one. In that moment, I resolved to do everything in my power to make it so.

          I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I hardly noticed when the door opened and Doroga stepped into the room.

 

 

**Notes**

One of my major reasons for writing this fic is disappointment that we never got a meeting between Attis & Tavi in canon. I really felt like canon was building up to something there, to the degree that I was sure Attis wouldn’t die until meeting Tavi. I was very disappointed that it never happened. This chapter was my attempt at capturing what I wanted to see in canon.


	18. News & Negotiations

          The Marat chieftain looked decidedly out of place in the receiving room. He was dressed in the same altered Aleran tunic he’d worn when I first met him; it seemed to be one of the only pieces of clothing he owned. From my understanding, clothing was still somewhat of a foreign concept to the Marat. I inclined my head respectfully to Doroga, then sat back down in my chair. “Headman Doroga. Did the First Lord send you here to speak with me?”

          “He spoke to me and I chose to come myself.” Doroga seated himself in the chair recently vacated by Octavian. “I told you we would talk of balancing scales once the Vord were dealt with.”

          “I remember. If you want to cut out my heart, I’m afraid I have to decline. I’m currently using it.”

          The corner of his mouth twitched upward in amusement. “That’s not what I want. It would’ve been before, but things are changed now. Tavi has said you are not to be harmed.”

          It took me a second to realize he’d referred to Octavian. I’d nearly forgotten that he’d once been known as Tavi of Calderon. “And if he hadn’t said that to you would you still want me dead?”

          Doroga was quiet for a brief moment, thinking. “We have fought together against the Vord,” he said slowly. I got the distinct impression he was a man who weighed every word before speaking. “And you confessed to what you did. It seems that you are no longer an enemy of the Marat. Do you see now that my people are not tools to be used in your Aleran power plays?”

          “Yes, I see that now,” I answered softly. “Please understand—I was raised to see the Marat as nothing more than barbarians who eat the hearts of of those they slay in battle. This is the way your people are commonly seen by Alerans. Then First Calderon happened, and the Marat were partially responsible for the death of someone I loved. It was very easy to hate you and view you as nothing more than animals. There were Marat arrows piercing Septimus’s body when it was found. All I could think was if the Marat hadn’t attacked the Calderon Valley, he’d still be alive.”

          “It was folly,” Doroga admitted. “I lost loved ones there too.”

          “My condolences to you.” I thought it best not to mention that I may well have killed some of his loved ones during the retaliatory campaign. “You can understand now why it was easy for me to callously use the Marat in my scheme. I saw them as tools, not people. Now that I’ve spent time around you and fought beside you, I’ve realized that though the Marat may be different from Alerans, you are just as deserving of respect.”

          Doroga stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “That is good enough for me. I will share it with the others.”

          “Good. Now what restitution would you have of me? The First Lord is having me repay the cost of the damages to Garrison,” I informed him.

          “That is a reasonable thing to do. I would ask the same, but your money has little value to the Marat.”

          “Then what would you have of me instead?”

          “Tavi intends to make the Marat welcome in Alera. For that, we would need somewhere to stay, somewhere we might be accepted,” he answered.

          I gave a small nod, taking his meaning. “You want lands to settle within my province.”

          “Yes,” Doroga confirmed. “Maybe if we live close to you, it will ensure you can never see us as nothing but objects again.”

          “That is a reasonable assumption.” The proposal was a fitting one. Having the Marat among the people I ruled over would ensure that I’d extend my protection to them. A High Lord must care for his people as a father cares for his children, my father taught me. “What else?”

          “We would have gifts to compensate for the losses you inflicted on us.”

          “What sort of gifts?”

          “Useful gifts,” Doroga replied. “We have little use for trinkets. I would have you provide such gifts for any who would live on the lands you’ll give us.”

          “It will be done. I’m afraid I cannot offer any specifics as to what areas of my province would be most suitable for settlement, as I have no idea of the current state of it. Much of it may be covered in _croach_ for all I know.”

          Doroga nodded. “I understand this is something that will take a great deal of time. Much must be done before then.”

          “Yes. Do you think any of your people would be interested in settling in the city of Aquitaine itself?” I asked, thinking of the old stories he’d shared with me about the Marats’ great cities across the sea.

          Doroga pursed his lips, considering my question. “It has been a long time since any of the Marat lived in a city, but maybe there are some who would.”

          “I would welcome any who wished to come into Aquitaine. Perhaps living side-by-side in such a setting will allow for greater understanding between our peoples,” I offered. Lately I’d started to wonder if the entire conflict between the Marat and Alera began with cultural misunderstanding. If that truly was the case, maybe it wasn’t too late to undo the damage. Of course, all of this would depend on the state of Aquitaine. If the city had been taken or had sections destroyed during the siege, repairs would need to be done before any Marat could even think of moving in. I decided to contact my cousin Eolus about the state of the city once I was done speaking to Doroga.

          “We can only hope greater understanding will come,” said Doroga. “I will share what we have said. I think they will find it agreeable.”

          “Very good.” I stood and extended a hand to Doroga. We clasped forearms. “We will speak of this again once I know about the state of Aquitaine.”

          Doroga released my arm and nodded. “This is sufficient. I am glad you have changed your opinions, Lord Aquitaine.”

          “So am I. I only wish I’d done so sooner.”

          When Doroga was gone, I headed back to my rooms and had Flavius fill a basin of water for me. It was time I sent a watersending to Eolus. I stared into the clear water, thinking of home, particularly the pool of water beneath our citadel. This was my viewing pool, which I used to survey events in my province and beyond. This watersending was incredibly easy compared to the last one I sent. Several minutes passed before Eolus appeared. I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him—if he was alive and at the viewing pool, it meant the city hadn’t been breached. Eolus looked a bit weary, but otherwise unharmed. He had the look of the House of Aquitainus, with the same narrow face and dark golden hair. His was shorter than mine, going to his chin. His mouth broke into a wide smile at the sight of me. “Attis! We feared you were dead!”

          “I’m alive and well, though it was a near thing. I took several poisoned wounds while fighting the Vord Queen.”

          Eolus blinked twice. “Poisoned wounds? Were you able to heal yourself?”

          “No. I wouldn’t have made it if First Lady Isana hadn’t fed me a healing mushroom and tended to my wounds,” I answered.

          “There must be a story behind that. You’ll have to tell me once you get home.”

          “I take it there is a home to return to, then?” I inquired.

          “Yes, there is,” said Eolus with a note of pride in his voice. “The city hasn’t been taken and it still stands.”

          I closed my eyes briefly, letting relief flood through me. My beautiful city still stood, waiting to welcome me home. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. There have been many occasions since my last visit when I’ve wished I could communicate with you without fear of interception. It’s been terrible, not knowing how my city fared against the Vord.”

          “I understand. It’s been just as hard for the family being unable to contact you. Everyone’s been worried.”

          By “family” he meant himself, my other cousins, and miscellaneous other relatives. “You can tell them now that I’m alive and well. The Vord Queen is dead and the war is over.”

          Eolus nodded. “We figured as much. Yesterday I was out on the walls, fighting off another attempt by the Vord to take them, when all of a sudden they started acting… _confused_ , almost. Like they totally lost their focus.”

          “That’s exactly what happens to them without the Queen to drive them forward. With her gone, they’re nothing more than animals,” I replied.

          “Well there are several thousand of them currently encircling the city. They’re pressed up close enough to keep us from getting out of the gates,” Eolus informed me. “They seem intent on besieging the city, even without the Queen to direct them.”

          “I’m not surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. It seems the drive to carry out the Queen’s will is ingrained in them, to the degree that they will continue to do as she bid even after her death,” I observed. “I think a determined assault might suffice to scatter them. Here we had the Legions march out of the fortress at Garrison to engage them while Octavian’s forces advanced on their rear. They scattered like a real army would without the Queen to drive them on.” I let out a short laugh. “All this happened while I was unconscious and recovering from my wounds, though I heard plenty about it later.”

          “So Octavian’s returned?” he asked.

          “Yes. I chose to abdicate in favor of him.”

          Eolus’s mouth fell open. “You did _what_?”

          “I abdicated. Octavian is the First Lord now.”

          There was a long pause as Eolus grappled with that information. “You really think a boy like him is fit to be First Lord?” he asked once he’d recovered. “I know how close you were to Septimus, but…”

          “He is fit to be First Lord,” I retorted, cutting him off. “He is cunning, capable, and has both military experience and a political education. I have decided to no longer pursue the throne.”

          Eolus stared at me, still not quite believing my words. “Are you sure you’re fully recovered from your wounds and that poison didn’t do something to your head?”

          “Quite sure. I’ve given the matter a fair bit of thought and I’m certain this is the right course. Octavian and I had a long discussion a short while ago and he agreed to spare my life for my service during the war and also for stepping down willingly. I will retain the title of Princeps and position as his younger adopted brother, so the throne would still pass to me if something were to befall him.”

          “If that’s your decision, then I’ll support it,” said Eolus, though not without a hint of skepticism.

          “Good. Would you be so kind as to pass that along to the others? I promised Octavian I’d tell all my supporters that I’ve decided to support him.”

          “I can do that. The others probably won’t approve, but they should go along with it,” he assured me.

          “See it done, Eolus. Now what of the condition of the city? How much damage did the Vord do?” I asked.

          “Well,” Eolus began with a small sigh, “the damages aren’t nearly as bad as they might have been. The walls were breached in a handful of places before we were able to drive the Vord back. We got them repaired, but just enough to hold the Vord at bay. They’ll need more extensive repairs. The gates took some damage as well.”

          “It could be much worse. I’m guessing the walls will have their share of gouges and scorch marks on the outside.”

          “I’d say that’s a safe bet,” Eolus agreed. “We can check once we disperse the Vord horde gathered outside them.”

          “Naturally. And what of the palace itself? Did you have to use the stone to release the gargoyles?”

          Eolus’s mouth was a hard line. “No, but it was a near thing. We were spread thin along the wall and the Vord came very near to breaching the wall in multiple places. That boy killed the Queen just in time.”

          “I’ll be sure to mention that detail to him when we speak again. Did the rest of the city take any damage?”

          “Some, but nothing too major.”

          I nodded. “That about covers everything I wanted to discuss with you. Right now it looks like it’ll be a bit of time before I’ll be able to return home. There is much that must be seen to here before I can go,” I informed him. “How’s the situation in the city? Can you hold out for a month or so?”

          “I think we can manage, though I’ll have to put the whole city on rations.”

          “Do you have enough men to attempt a sortie from the gate? A focused attack along with a barrage of furycrafting might suffice to drive them off.”

          Eolus shook his head. “Not enough to do that and man the wall at the same time.”

          “Well in that case try your best to hold on until I can get there with the Aquitainian Legions. I know you can do it, Eolus.”

          “Thank you, Attis. I’ll do my best.”

          “I’ll contact you again soon.” With that last statement, I cut the connection. My next action was to summon the captains of the Aquitainian Legions and inform them of the state of our city. Strange mixtures of relief and worry hit me from them. They were not at all pleased to hear that we wouldn’t be setting out to break the siege right away.

          “Our city is still in danger!” Vitellus yelled. “You tell that boy we’ll…”

          I raised a hand and he fell silent. “Every city save Riva is either taken or currently under siege. I must consult the First Lord to determine what course of action we will take. The devastation the Vord visited on the Valley will have to be dealt with before any cities can be liberated. I plan to support the First Lord and I expect those who serve me to follow suit.” I followed up my words by looking each of them directly in the eye. “Your loyalty to me is greatly appreciated, but that extends to following my lead in this matter despite your personal feelings.” Slowly, they nodded and murmured words of agreement. I could tell they still didn’t like waiting, but they made no more protests.

          The rest of the day proved to be full of meetings. I called the Citizens of Aquitaine who were still alive and not recovering from wounds to my rooms so that I could instruct them to support Octavian. This took rather more doing than convincing the captains, which was unsurprising. Soldiers are used to following orders; Citizens are by nature an arrogant lot. Senator Valerius in particular raised rather loud and persistent objections. I had to all but threaten him with the _juris macto_ to shut him up. I was fairly certain his fear of me would be enough to get him to comply.

          The day passed quickly. When it was time for dinner, I relinquished the seat of honor to Octavian and took the chair to his left. Much as Isana and I had done the previous night, my sitting beside him would serve as a very public show of unity. Most of the High Lords were in attendance save Raucus, who I hadn’t seen since the morning. That was slightly worrisome, as it was unlike Raucus to miss a meal unless something very important required his attention. The meal proved to be an interesting one. I was introduced to Doroga’s daughter Kitai, who it seemed would likely become the First Lady soon. I did not think Octavian the sort of man who wouldn’t marry his pregnant lover, no matter what the Citizenry would say about a Marat First Lady and half-Marat heir. All of this reminded me that I would have to give some thought to those matters myself in due time. For now, I would enjoy myself.

          Over the course of the meal, which was just as tasty as the previous day’s fare, I learned much of what Octavian had done since leaving Alera with the Canim in the aftermath of Kalarus’s rebellion. It seemed like a tale one would read in a novel, too extraordinary to be true. I certainly wanted the detail that there was another Vord Queen in Canea to be untrue. If she was as intelligent as the Queen here had been, she could surely see the advantages of attacking Alera in our current state. However, Octavian didn’t seem terribly concerned about the prospect. I was certain Carna would be a much better place if the Vord were wiped out to the last, but I was well-aware that any such campaign would have to wait. We needed to rebuild.

          I did not linger overlong at dinner this time. I excused myself once some of the others had already left and headed out to the refugee camps. If I thought I’d become popular after healing refugees during the retreat, it was nothing compared to how they greeted me now. Crowds emerged from the camps to cheer loudly at my approach. It was obvious that word of my deeds had reached them. It didn’t matter that I’d ultimately failed in my attempt to kill the Queen—I’d still fought heroically against her and been gravely wounded in the process. Abdication or no, I was still their Princeps and I got the sense they were proud of me.

          The refugee camps were enormous, significantly larger than those I’d seen inside the first wall after we arrived. They were considerably more sophisticated as well, with numerous wooden buildings to house the refugees. The Calderons had been taking in refugees for months, so they were well-equipped to handle the influx after Riva. I had to ask for directions a couple times before I was able to locate the camp followers of the First Aquitaine. Nydia’s pavilion was easy to spot amid the sea of tents.

          I was greeted enthusiastically by Nydia as soon as I entered the tent. “So good to see you alive and well,” she said. “We heard you’d been badly injured. Laelia is free at the moment, if you are looking for her.”

          I smiled. “I am indeed. Please fetch her.” Nydia rose from her stool and left. A moment later she returned with Laelia following close behind her. She looked much the same as the last time I’d seen her, which had of course only been a couple days ago. Her face brightened as soon as she saw me. She started forward, looking as if she were about to embrace me, before thinking better of it and halting. “I would like your company for tonight, Laelia.”

          “It would be my pleasure, my lord.”

          Together we journeyed back through the refugee camps and to my rooms. Once we were inside, I didn’t waste any time with conversation. My hands went to the pins holding her dress in place at the shoulders and swiftly undid them. Her dress fell to the floor. I led her over to the bed, kissing her hard. I’d bedded a man yesterday; it was only fair that I bedded a woman today. When we were done, Laelia lay atop me, breasts pressed against my chest. “When will we be going home?” she asked after a few minutes had passed.

          “I cannot say exactly,” I replied, “just that it will be a little while yet. There is much to be seen to here.”

          “Oh. I was hoping we’d be leaving soon. I’ve been feeling homesick.”

          “I understand that feeling completely. At least we’ll be able to keep each other company while we wait,” I said, running a hand down her back.

          She squirmed a little, pressing her hips against me. “I’d like that very much. But what about when we do go home? I’ll miss you.”

          “I’ll miss you too.” It was not a lie. She’d been good company in bed for the duration of the Vord War and Kalarus’s rebellion. But that didn’t change the simple fact that I had other lovers waiting for me at home.

          “I’ve been thinking since the war ended,” she remarked, “thinking I might take the money I’ve saved from your fees and set myself up in the city.”

          “Set yourself up? As what?”

          “Don’t know yet. Thought I might try acting. People tell me I’m good at it.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “I hope you haven’t been doing that with me!” I was fairly certain she wasn’t—I was confident in my abilities as a lover.

          She laughed. “No, not with you! But believe me, most men aren’t exactly like you in bed.”

          I couldn’t help but smile. “I try. I do have a reputation to uphold, after all. Anyway, if you’re serious about this acting thing, I will do what I can to assist you.”

          “Thank you.” Laelia laid her head back down on my chest and soon fell asleep. I lay awake for several more minutes, my mind still reeling from all that had happened today. After the conversations with Octavian and Doroga, I truly felt that I’d been freed of a tremendous burden. I had, essentially, been absolved of my crimes and given a second chance. And I had no intention of messing it up. For the first time since the Vord War began, I found myself looking forward to the future.


	19. Taking Stock

          The next morning, I encountered the Canim. Their presence wasn’t a surprise, since I knew they were among Octavian’s host, but I hadn’t quite expected there to be so many of them. The entirety of the force which had invaded Alera at Kalarus’s behest was present, along with another Canim horde of refugees. The Canim were not my area of expertise—indeed, I could count the prior interactions I’d had with them on one hand. They didn’t raid as far as Aquitaine, their homeland being opposite the western coast of Alera rather than the eastern, so I hadn’t had to prepare for that possibility. It also meant I did not have the bias against them that I had against the Marat.

          Octavian brought them here because their entire homeland had been taken over by the Vord. It seemed he’d succeeded in making peace with them, just as he’d done with the Marat. After the Canim arrived, Octavian took it upon himself to introduce myself and the other High Lords to Varg, the Cane who’d once been their ambassador to Alera. He towered over us, regarding the scene before him with intelligent eyes. It wasn’t often that I had to look up to anyone, but Varg was over a foot taller than me. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” I greeted him. His name was familiar to me, but I’d not met him before. A distant part of my mind recalled that it was his guards who’d been taken by the Vord during their first attack in Alera Imperia, the one Invidia and Fidelias helped put down while I dealt with Kalarus’s bloodcrows. I met Varg’s eyes and inclined my head slightly in a gesture of respect. One thing I did know was that body language was as important as words to the Canim. “I thank you for all you have done to help defeat the Vord.”

          Varg inclined his head slightly, mimicking my gesture. I took it to be one of respect returned. "The Vord are an enemy to all.”

          “Yes. Please accept my condolences for the loss of your homeland.”

          “They are accepted. My home range was lost when we arrived, but some of my people still lived. They are here now as refugees.”

          “Then perhaps you will be able to start over again somewhere new,” I proposed.

          “That is what Tavar has promised,” Varg replied. It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Octavian. Was Tavar the Canim way of pronouncing Tavi? More importantly, it seemed the Marat weren’t the only people who’d be joining us in the new Alera.

          It would certainly be interesting.

          When the introductions were done, I noticed Raucus was once again not among the gathered High Lords. His continuous absence was beginning to trouble me. “Have you any idea where High Lord Antillus is? It’s not like him to be absent like this when there are important matters to attend to.”

          A somber expression came over Octavian’s face. “I suspect you’ll find him in the healing tent of the First Aleran.”

          “Thank you, sire.”

          The First Aleran was encamped on the northern side of the plain before Garrison. As I walked to the healing tent, I pondered how strange and ironic it was that the First Aleran, a Legion I proposed to the Senate as a way of spying on Kalarus and forming some greater sense of Aleran unity, should end up being captained by Septimus’s son. By all accounts, the _legionares_ had developed a sense of Aleran solidarity after going through so much together. The Legion had also been a very useful tool for gathering information until it left to escort the Canim home. Yes, that plan had worked out rather well.

          The healing tent was filled with tubs and cots arranged in neat rows. Most of the latter were occupied. Those who’d been wounded badly hadn’t had enough time yet to fully recover. It wasn’t difficult to spot Raucus’s familiar form seated by a bed on the far side of the tent. As I walked toward him, a woman paused in her healing of a wounded _legionare_ to stare at me. I let out a gasp of surprise when I realized it was Antillus Dorotea. It wasn’t seeing her acting as a healer that shocked me—I knew she’d been serving as Tribune Medica to the First Aleran—but rather it was the discipline collar around her neck. My first thought was that it was Octavian’s doing since she’d abused his friend, but I dismissed that idea as quickly as it came. He was not the type to use discipline collars, not with his anti-slavery stance. As shocking as the sight was, there was a certain amount of irony in a scion of the House of Kalarus being collared. “My lord,” she acknowledged me, head bowed.

          “High Lady Antillus,” I replied, inclining my head toward her.

          “No more,” she said in a subdued voice quite different from the haughty manner I recalled her having. “I am only Dorotea now.”

          “Very well. Dorotea.” I moved past her and came to a stop beside Raucus. He didn’t seem to notice my presence. His eyes were fixed on the young man lying on the cot, apparently asleep. I didn’t have to ask to know this was one of his sons. He didn’t bear much of a resemblance to Raucus, but there was something of Dorotea in his face. This was the legitimate son, then. “Raucus?”

          Slowly, Raucus turned his gaze from his son’s sleeping form and faced me. “They’re saying he may never walk again.”

          “I’m so sorry, old friend,” I said, leaning down to place a hand on his shoulder.

          “It was when the Queen attacked them, they told me. Max was hurt badly too, but he’s recovered now. Crassus…” his voice trailed off as his eyes moved back to his son. “I should’ve been there for him. I was gone on the Shieldwall too much.”

          “You couldn’t help it,” I replied. “The wall had to be defended.”

          “Crows take the wall,” he snapped. “I should’ve been there.”

          His words reminded me of my own regrets about not being by Septimus’s side at Seven Hills and First Calderon. Septimus had told me not to dwell on it, as no one can know for sure what might’ve been. Somehow I doubted that was what Raucus wanted to hear. But perhaps he needed to hear it. “Raucus, you can’t keep tormenting yourself like this. There’s nothing that can be done now about the past. All you can do is be there for your son now.”

          He didn’t turn to look at me, nor did he say anything in response. The grief was too fresh in him. I could’ve left him alone—I already felt like somewhat of an intruder to his private grief—but something compelled me to remain where I was. Someone needed to be there for him in this difficult time, and Dorotea didn’t seem interested in doing it. If they were another couple, I’d have thought this would bring them closer together. In this case, it didn’t seem likely. By all accounts, Raucus hated the woman. “If you ever want to speak with anyone, I’ll listen,” I said softly.

          “How can you know what I’m feeling?” Raucus demanded. “You have no children!”

          “That may be true, but you of all people know I’m not a stranger to loss.” He knew all too well what Septimus meant to me. “We have only just rekindled our friendship, Raucus. I’d rather not lose that. Being there for a friend when he needs it is what a friend does.” I let out a small sigh. “I never should’ve cut ties with you after Sep died. I didn’t want to pull you along the path I’d chosen. That, and I had trouble imagining the two of us together without Sep there. It was too painful.”

          This time, my words seemed to reach him. He stood and and turned to face me. “You’re right, Attis. I’m sorry.” His eyes darted over to Dorotea briefly before returning to me. I felt the tell-tale pop of a windcrafting against eavesdropping.

          “Didn’t want her to overhear,” he clarified before continuing. “Dorotea told me everything that happened, about Crassus, how she got collared, all of it. One of the Canim leaders collared her. He’s dead now, so there’ll be no getting that collar off her. I tried to feel some measure of sympathy for her—she’s just as devastated about Crassus as I am—but I can’t. I just can’t.”

          I found myself pondering his confession before making a reply. If Invidia and I were in the same situation, I’d likely feel the same way. I seriously doubted even the shared grief of having a child be possibly crippled for life could’ve overcome our mutual animosity. “Believe me Raucus, I understand. I do know a thing or two about bad marriages.”

          That got a brief chuckle out of him. “She told me she no longer considers herself to be High Lady of Antillus. Does that make us effectively divorced?”

          “No. Separated, certainly, but not officially divorced.” I grinned at him. “I learned quite a bit about the legal procedures for divorce while obtaining my own.”

          “Well it seems there are no obstacles to it now. Might as well go through with it. I’d have done it years ago, after I found out she killed Diona, but I knew it’d never be allowed,” he remarked.

          “That kind of thing isn’t going to happen in the new Alera,” I assured him. “Octavian intends to reform the marriage laws so no one will be forced to marry someone they hate just to produce children with strong crafting abilities.”

          “Glad to hear it. Too bad that wasn’t the case twenty years ago.”

          “My thoughts exactly.”

          “I can never forgive Dorotea for what she did to Max. It wasn’t just beatings either—she tried to kill him, Attis! More than once! That’s why he ran off to the Legions. I never knew about it, and he holds me partially responsible. When I spoke to him, he, well, didn’t respond the way a son should after seeing his father for the first time in years.”

          We were once again venturing into unfamiliar territory. Being childless as far as I knew, I had to think back to my relationship with my own father. Both of my parents were known to dote on me from time to time. My father used to tell me that a father always had time for his children whenever I approached him. I doubted that would make Raucus feel any better about his situation. My father hadn’t been responsible for defending the Shieldwall when he’d made that statement. “Give him some time,” was all I could think of to say.

          Raucus sighed. “You’re right. There’s too much pain for it to go away easily.”

          On the bed, Antillus Crassus was stirring. His eyes slowly opened and focused on Raucus. “Father…?”

          “I’m here, Crassus.”

          Crassus’s eyes moved off Raucus and on to me. “Who is this?”

          “This is High Lord Aquitainus Attis,” Raucus answered. “He was—is—a good friend of mine.”

          “Pleased to meet you, Crassus,” I said, smiling. “I’ve heard a great deal about your brave deeds as a member of the First Aleran.”

          Crassus looked from me to Raucus, then back to me in confusion, obviously grappling with the revelation that his father was friends with me. “I heard you abdicated the throne in favor of Tavi.” I detected a note of anger in the way he said Tavi. Had he and Octavian had some kind of falling out? Last I knew, Octavian had befriended both of Raucus’s sons.

          “Yes, I did,” I answered him. “He is the rightful First Lord of Alera.”

          “He lied to me,” Crassus murmured. “He _lied_.”

          Before he could elaborate on this, another voice called out, “Father?” Raucus and I turned to see the young man who could only be Antillar Maximus walking toward us. His resemblance to Raucus was nearly as striking as Octavian’s to Septimus. He regarded me warily before greeting me with a curt, “Lord Aquitaine.”

          I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging his presence. “Pardon me, but I don’t believe we’ve been formerly introduced.”

          “Attis, this is my natural son Maximus,” Raucus interjected.

          “It is a pleasure to meet you, Maximus.” It was obvious he’d come to speak with his father, so I took this as my cue to leave. “I’ll take my leave of you now. Make sure you get something to eat, Raucus.”

          After leaving the tent, I elected to walk back to the fortress rather than fly. The path took me through the town, allowing me to see it up close for the first time. It was much the same as any other Aleran town, save for the sections which had been destroyed in the fighting. We were fortunate that the entire town hadn’t been reduced to rubble. Earthcrafters and woodcrafters were already at work repairing whatever they could. The residents of the town had started returning to their homes. The sight of them in their homes and walking about the streets made me smile. It was truly a beautiful thing to see after witnessing the destruction of Alera Imperia and the taking of Ceres and Riva. It was a promise that life would, eventually, return to normal. Despite everything that had happened, life continued as it always had. When I arrived back at the fortress, I felt somehow lighter.

          That feeling was soon tested by the rest of the day’s agenda. Octavian’s intention was to hold a series of memorial services to honor those who’d died in this Third Battle of the Calderon Valley. The bodies had already been buried at this point, so there was none of that to deal with. Octavian intended to erect a Memorium to honor all of the dead and keep their restless spirits at bay. The idea made me think of the offerings I’d made at the memorial for the dead of Second Calderon. I’d have to make offerings here too, though I harbored no particular guilt over these deaths. The piles of dead Vord outside the walls had already been dealt with as well—just as at the second wall, Knights Ignus and Terra had disposed of them. As such, little preparation was needed before the Memorium could be erected. “Would you require any assistance with the construction, sire?” I inquired of Octavian. “I understand that it’s only been a few years since you came into your furies, so I thought I’d offer to assist you.”

          Octavian took his time considering my offer before answering. “It’s true that I’ve never constructed anything like this before. I’ll take you up on that offer. It’ll be another good public show of unity.”

          “A very good point. I was present when Gaius constructed your father’s Memorium and have some idea of how he did it. Have you chosen a good spot yet?”

          “That’s easier said than done. I don’t want it too far from the walls so it can keep the spirits from interfering with the town and fortress, but all the ground there is filled with the bodies of dead Alerans and Vord. We need to find a spot where we can raise the necessary stone from the earth,” he explained.

          “I will leave the rest of the planning to you in that case.”

          Aside from discussing the monuments to the dead, there were many more matters requiring our attention. Octavian called a meeting of all the High Lords so we could update him on the states of our cities. As I sat at the great table in the war room, I took stock of the High Lords. The Vord War had indeed done a number on us. Four High Lords had died in the war. As a result, there were two new faces among our number—Veradis was now High Lady Cereus and Phrygia’s son had taken his father’s seat. There were no representatives from Rhodes or Parcia. I had no idea if any relatives of their late High Lords had survived. I wondered if anyone had checked on the fates of those cities. Last I knew, Parcia had been taken but Rhodes was still holding out.

          We were all assembled around the table when Raucus joined us. His face was full of weariness and he looked like he really didn’t want to be there, but he took his seat beside me without complaint. With everyone now present, Octavian began the meeting by having each of us report on the condition of our cities. I went first, sharing everything Eolus told me yesterday with him. Once I was done, I listened closely to what the others had to say.

There was quite a lot of detail, but the basic gist of what they said was this: Attica, Forcia, and Placida had fallen. In addition to Aquitaine, Antillus and Phrygia were still holding out. Riva had of course been liberated by Octavian. No one knew what was going on in Rhodes.

          “I have been able to obtain information on Rhodes,” said Octavian after the High Lords had finished speaking. “The city is holding, but supplies are running low due to the large number of refugees in the city. The Vord have surrounded the city completely. After Parcia, Forcia, and Attica fell, the Queen could focus most of her southern forces on Rhodes.”

          “The resistance must be strong there to hold out for so long,” I commented. I have to admit my opinion of Rhodes rose at the news. I generally tried not to let my hatred of its late High Lord color my opinion of the city, but Rhodes was Aquitaine’s main rival. Only the threat of the Vord had rendered that rivalry meaningless.

          “That leaves us with a total of four sieges to break and five cities to liberate,” Octavian continued. “The liberation will be easier. The Queen wasn’t concerned with _holding_ cities, just with taking them. She wouldn’t expend her warriors uselessly defending cities deep in conquered territory when she could be using them against cities still resisting. I believe it will be relatively easy to drive out whatever token forces she left in place. On the way, we’ll liberate any towns and steadholts who surrendered to the Vord.”

          No one raised any objections to this plan. I expected at least some bickering about which city would be liberated first, but there was none. “What of the capital?” Placida asked. “I think we can all agree there is no chance of excavating Alera Imperia. Do you intend to rebuild it?”

          “I haven’t given it much thought,” Octavian admitted, “but it will take time for a new capital to be constructed and I need an interim capital for a base of operations now. Since Riva is the only liberated city at the moment, I believe it will suffice.”

          “That is an honor, sire,” said Riva. I expected him to puff up and look important at that, but instead he just looked grateful. “I would be pleased to offer my city.”

          “Thank you, Lord Riva,” Octavian replied. “In any case, there is still a great deal of work ahead of us.”

          That I did not doubt.


	20. Memorials

          The raising of the Memorium took place after breakfast the following day. Octavian selected a spot a short distance from the wall, not far from a large tree. It was a good spot. Like many unsettled parts of the countryside, the furies were strong there. I hoped it would suffice to appease the spirits of the dead. Octavian and I stood before the assembled Legions, where all of them could see us. If this wasn’t a show of unity, I didn’t know what was. The Memorium would stand as a testament to that. Everything was ready; marble had been moved up through the earth, ready for us to shape into an enduring structure. “Today, we are gathered to pay our respects to those who gave their lives in the recent battle against the Vord. It is because of their brave sacrifices that Alera now stands free and unconquered. Those who died did not give their lives in vain,” Octavian began.

          “We wish to ensure that the memory of those who made the ultimate sacrifice for Alera will be remembered through the ages,” I continued. “That is why the First Lord and I will erect a Memorium here before the walls of Garrison.”

          Cheers broke out from the Legions; all of them were pleased to see their dead commemorated in such a way. It reminded me that I still needed to speak to Octavian about commendations for the Legions who’d fought at the first wall. Looking out at the endless rows of Legions standing in formation, the reality of the toll the war had taken on them was impossible to ignore. Not a single one was at full strength—on the contrary, many were at half-strength or less. The Aquitainian Legions had fared a bit better on the whole, aside from the Third being all but wiped out at Alera Imperia, and not because of me deliberately holding them back. It was a big relief, as I felt personally responsible for those Legions. And there was also the fact that they’d be needed to break the siege of Aquitaine.

          As the _legionares_ continued to cheer, Octavian and I turned away from them and set about raising the Memorium. I took the lead, with Octavian watching and carefully imitating what I did. Slowly and with great care I raised the marble from the earth. First, I formed the base, then shaped more marble into a circle of strong pillars. After that came a domed roof. When the basic construction was done, Octavian and I hollowed out a circle in the center of the floor, then raised a block of marble for the inscription. Octavian motioned for a pair of tubs filled with water to be brought forward. Together, we moved the water from the tubs to the pool. It was smaller than the one in Septimus’s Memorium, as this one was smaller overall. There were no tombs here, so it didn’t need to be so large. As soon as the water was in the pool, Octavian stepped forward to etch the memorial inscription onto the block. After a few minutes passed, he stepped back to stand beside me once more. It was done. Later we’d have woodcrafters raise plants around the perimeter, but this would suffice for now.

          The cheers grew louder once we were done. I motioned for a few sticks of incense to be brought forward, then handed half of them to Octavian. He did the same with the wine. We poured it out in a libation first, then walked into the Memorium together. We lit the incense and dropped it into the offering bowl I’d hollowed out at the base of the block. Together we spoke the traditional words for such occasions, the same ones I’d spoken at the memorial for Second Calderon: _shades of those buried here, please accept these offerings and leave the living in peace._ We paused there for a few minutes, watching the incense burn down as tendrils of smoke rose into the air, then stepped out of the Memorium.

          That marked the end of our memorial for the dead of Garrison. As I walked back to the fortress, I realized this was only the first of several such ceremonies I’d have to participate in over the next month or so. The first and second walls had their own dead, as did Riva. They’d need memorials too.

          It was after I’d reached the fortress when Raucus caught up with me. I was pleased to see him out of the First Aleran’s healing tent. “That was a good thing you did, you and Octavian.”

          “It was the right thing to do. I still intend to see every man who fought at the first wall is commended,” I replied.

          “Good. They deserve it.” Raucus stopped walking and looked me directly in the eyes. “Thank you for coming to see me yesterday. Sorry I was a bit… short with you. I know you were only trying to comfort me.”

          “That’s what friends do, is it not?” I retorted with a smile. “I seem to recall that, from the old days.”

          “I’m glad you do.” He looked away from me and down at his feet. “Seeing Crassus like that was… probably one of the hardest things I’ve witnessed since the crowbegotten Vord War began.”

          I raised my eyebrows—that was a hard thing to witness indeed, considering the horrors we’d seen. “I’m sorry about what happened to your son, Raucus. I can only imagine what it must be like to see something like that happen to your child.”

          “Thank you, Attis.” He was silent for a moment and I laid a hand on his arm. “When I was sitting with Crassus, all I could think about was all the ways I’d failed him and Max as a father. He doesn’t hold anything against me, but…” I patted his arm gently, hoping the gesture would encourage him to continue. It was better for him to speak about these things than to keep them bottled up inside. “… but Max made it clear that it’ll take some time for him to forgive.”

          As awful as they were, Dorotea’s actions were hardly surprising. If she killed Diona, killing Raucus’s son by her wasn’t a stretch at all. The sentiments were unfortunately common among many noblewomen. Bastards were always seen as potential threats, regardless of their individual personalities. And I suppose no woman is ever pleased to have the fruit of her husband’s infidelity paraded before her eyes. My own situation was somewhat unique in that Invidia stopped caring about my infidelity after we reached our compromise and instead sought to control it. We quite deliberately chose not to have children, but there were no doubts in my mind that she would never have tolerated it had I chosen to acknowledge and raise any bastards of mine. It was hardly fair, but it was the way society was. And not every woman can watercraft or afford silphium. “I’m sorry,” I said, unable to think of anything else to say.

          “Not your fault,” came the gruff response. A tangle of emotions hit me hard from him, even with my shields: regret, anger, sadness, and a certain wistful longing.

          “Look, Raucus…” I wanted to say something to make him feel better, but the words did not come easily. I had no personal experience when it came to difficult relationships with one’s children and so had no frame of reference to draw on. I tried my best. “You are still intending to divorce Dorotea, are you not?”

          “Yes, I am. She’s agreeable to it; I don’t think she wants to do anything other than tend to Crassus from now on,” he answered.

          “I suppose any mother would feel the same in that situation. It seems Dorotea was the main obstacle to your relationship with Max. With her out of the way, surely it will be possible for you to mend things with him. I said you could give it a try once the war was over and I still believe that.”

          I braced myself, expecting him to snap at me. Instead he lifted his head to meet my eyes and asked, “Do you really mean it?”

          “I wouldn’t have said it to you if I didn’t. Come on, you know me well enough to know I’m not the sort to lie to a friend to make him feel better.”

          The corners of his lips twitched up into a faint smile. “I’ll try my best. Right now he has no intention of returning to Antillus with me, but maybe I can change his mind.”

          I gave him my most encouraging smile. “Good luck.”

 

**

 

          Days passed.

          Most of my time was spent in various meetings with Octavian and the other High Lords, discussing the state of the Calderon Valley and our next courses of action. Rebuilding a realm after so much devastation was no easy task. It was something I’d thought of only rarely during the war; I didn’t have the luxury of giving it any serious consideration when I had a war to run. In a way, this was harder than making war plans. It is always easier to destroy than create. What I wanted most was to return home and take some time to rest. Fortunately, Octavian seemed to have endless energy for all of it. He seemed to view the rebuilding of Alera as some kind of exciting challenge. It was clear to me that he was eager to begin implementing the many reforms he planned. I confess I was eager for that as well.

          A week had passed since the end of the war when we set out from Garrison, the remnant of the huge army I’d assembled at Riva marching beside Octavian’s Legions, the Canim, those refugees from Riva and the Valley, and a good number of Marat. Our destination was Riva, where Octavian meant to establish an interim capital. Though this last stay at Garrison had rid me of the negative associations I had with the place, I wasn’t sorry to be leaving it. Every step away from the fortress was one closer to home.

          Progress was slow. We might’ve left the wounded behind at Garrison, but we were still burdened with many wagons of supplies. Those wounded who were well enough to travel were along as well, Antillus Crassus among them. The causeway was still intact, allowing us to make good time, but a massive army could only move so quickly. The day was halfway gone when we reached the old steadholt where the hive had been. Octavian’s forces had done a fine job clearing the area of Vord and none could be seen. Nevertheless, I wasn’t exactly pleased to see the place again. The memories of what happened here recently were too fresh in my mind. My eyes kept drifting back to the old barn. _Croach_ could still be seen around the hive entrances—I daresay there were probably still a few wax spiders around to tend to it. The image of red blood spilling across the green _croach_ came to mind unbidden. “We should burn the place,” I heard myself say.

          Octavian regarded me with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean, Lord Aquitaine?”

          “The barn,” I answered. “We should burn the barn.”

          I watched his gaze as it took in the barn with its patches of _croach._ “I’m inclined to agree with you. I intend to have this steadholt resettled with refugees, but a barn can always be rebuilt with little difficulty. The rest of the steadholt is in decent enough condition.” Wasting no time, he ordered everyone away from the barn and sent the Knights Ignus of the First Aleran forward to do the deed. It only took a few fireblasts to set the roof ablaze. I watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as the flames devoured the entire building. From nearby I sensed a similar feeling coming from Isana. It must’ve felt good to see the place where she’d been imprisoned go up in flames. The hive had been littered with corpses the last time I’d seen it, though I heard Phrygia’s body had been removed after the Queen was killed and given a proper cremation here. His ashes had been given to his son for transportation back to Phrygia. I had no idea what had become of Invidia’s body, nor did I particularly care. Likely it was still in the hive. She was not deserving of any kind of proper funeral. Better that she burn up with the rest.

          The _croach_ did burn well.

          When the barn was consumed and the fire burnt out, Octavian and I raised another memorial not far from the smouldering ashes. This was not a full Memorium like the one we erected at Garrison, just a monument honoring those who’d died in the battle and assassination attempt here. It was the least we could do.

          We stayed the night at the steadholt. I would’ve preferred to move on and spend the night at the second wall, but I raised no objections. I was given one of the steadholt rooms for my lodgings. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture or bedding, so I had to have the mattress, pillows, and blankets from my camp cot brought up to create some semblance of a bed. It was a definite downgrade from my room at Garrison, but much better than sleeping in a hard, bumpy wagon. At least it was only for a night. Laelia kept me company. Though I hadn’t had a nightmare since the night before the assassination attempt, I was uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping alone here. Lying atop her, I was able to pass the night peacefully and woke feeling well-rested.

          We did not linger at the steadholt. I wasn’t sorry to see it be swallowed up by the horizon as we rode onward. A few packs of wild Vord could be seen roaming the countryside, which were easily dealt with. I blasted a few of them myself with great satisfaction. It would be a happy day when they were exterminated to the last.

          It was a couple hours before we reached the spot where the second wall had stood. The steadholt where Octavian had grown up was still standing, looking much as it had the last time I’d seen it. That was an encouraging sight. The same couldn’t be said of the wall. It had been dismantled when Bernard awoke the gargoyles to cover our retreat and only the foundations remained. The gargoyles were nowhere to be seen, having gone back into the earth from which they’d come. The ground was strewn with the decaying remains of Alerans and Vord. The sight of rotting bodies very nearly made me gag, and I am no green lad with no experience of war. Octavian’s forces had burned or buried some, but they’d been in too much of a hurry to do more than clear a path for them to march. This, then, was our first duty here. I will not take the time to describe it in detail, for it was thoroughly unpleasant business. The only good thing was that it didn’t take long with all the Knights Ignus and Terra we had. When it was done, Octavian and I raised and dedicated another memorial monument. We were getting rather good at it now.

          Despite the business of the day, he was clearly glad to be at the place he’d called home for most of his childhood and adolescence. I could certainly relate to that, as I found myself growing increasingly homesick as my eagerness to return to Aquitaine grew with each passing day. I wondered how things were going there, if Eolus had managed to drive off the Vord. I hadn’t had the opportunity to send him a watersending to get an update. I opted to sleep in my tent that night since Octavian, Isana, and Bernard would be occupying their old rooms in the steadholt. It felt wrong to impose myself on them. Laelia joined me again; though this time I couldn’t escape the nightmares that came as soon as I drifted off to sleep. Images of the rotting corpses I’d seen today plagued my mind. It was unsurprising.

          The first wall was the same as the second, right down to the corpses covering the landscape. The sole difference was that this wall was still standing, or it was when we arrived. Octavian ordered it taken down—the need for it had passed and there was no reason to keep the Calderon Valley fortified. It was five days’ journey from the first wall to Riva. There was no particular reason to rush this time, so we moved at a leisurely pace. There were no corpses lying along the causeway, but we did encounter several more packs of Vord. No _croach_ could be seen anywhere—the Queen had forced them to march and attack beyond the limits of their food supply. That was good for us, as it meant we didn’t have to burn it on the way.

          At last, the city of Riva loomed before us. It looked much the same as it had when last I’d seen it, save for not being on fire. Octavian might’ve liberated the city, but he hadn’t exactly had the time or ability to do any serious repairs. The western gate had been completely destroyed when he took the city—I was rather impressed to learn that he’d done it with only watercrafting and woodcrafting to get around the gate’s defenses. Many of the city’s towers still stood, though others had been completely or partially destroyed in the fighting. Riva’s engineers would certainly have plenty of work to do.

          Clashing emotions warred inside me as we rode up to the eastern gate. It was impossible not to think of the last time I’d passed through that gate, as part of a desperate retreat while Vord swarmed into the city. It had been a discouraging defeat, as it had come after I spent months amassing a huge army and preparing as best I could. If it weren’t for the Calderons’ foresight, the war would’ve likely ended that day. It had been a personal defeat for me and I was unaccustomed to being defeated in battle. It still stung me. On the other hand, Riva was the only city currently liberated from Vord control. It stood as a symbol, a symbol of the endurance of Alera and the promise of new beginnings. I tried my best to focus on that and not how I’d failed the city before. We made for the High Lord’s tower, where Lord Riva had offered us accommodations. All of the High Lords had rooms there from our previous time in the city. I’d split my time between the tower and my command tent due to the latter containing my sand table and all other materials relating to the war. Besides, sleeping in my tent from time to time showed my men I was willing to endure what they endured.

          The tower had survived largely intact. It was certainly inhabitable. As soon as I could get away, I went straight to the rooms that had been mine before. It was like stepping back in time to the day before the battle of Riva. Everything was exactly as it had been then. There was not a patch of _croach_ to be seen anywhere. Indeed, I hadn’t seen any in the city at all—Octavian had done a very thorough job of destroying it. I immediately felt as if the room had somehow been waiting for my return. The rest of the clothing I’d brought from home was neatly-folded in its chest. The suit of armor I’d been forced to leave behind was also in its trunk beside the desk. The stacks of books and papers on the desk were in the same places I’d left them. Even the basin of water I’d used to send a brief watersending to Antillus when we came under attack was still in its place on a table by the window. This place had essentially been my home for a few months and it had somehow managed to retain a lived-in quality despite my absence.

          It wasn’t Aquitaine, but it would do.

 

 

**Notes**

Silphium- an herb used in Roman cooking. It was also used as an abortifacient. Silphium was highly-prized but very difficult to cultivate, so it eventually went extinct. I’m going with the idea that perhaps the Alerans, with their earthcrafting and woodcrafting, found a way to cultivate it.


	21. Clearing the Air

          I slept well that night. Though I’d slept in a real bed at Garrison, I’d been using my camp cot most of the time since leaving the fortress. My body greatly appreciated the return to a real mattress. I’d been given one of the best guest suites in Riva and I had no complaints. Flavius had wasted no time bringing up my trunks the night before; I didn’t bother unpacking anything more than the essentials. The bed was comfortable, the pillows and sheets soft. It was enough to take my mind off how badly I wanted to be home. 

          Octavian called another meeting of the High Lords after breakfast. I was beginning to grow used to them after attending so many since the war ended. This time, he wanted full reports of the Battle of Riva in order to assess the extent of the damage to the city. I ended up doing most of the talking. Recalling memories of the battle wasn’t pleasant, particularly the part when the feral furies attacked the city. Though I’d spent a good chunk of that time baiting my trap for Invidia, I still did my part to drive the feral furies from the city. It was entirely possible those same furies were now out there in the surrounding countryside. They wouldn’t actually attack the city, not without the Queen to put a furybinding on them, but they were perfectly capable of causing trouble for any travelers who happened to stumble upon them. I breathed a small sigh of relief when I finished my report. The less I had to dwell on that battle, the better. It was time for all those horrible memories of the war to leave the forefront of my mind and take their places in the recesses of memory, to be called upon only at need. It was, without a doubt, the worst thing I’d ever experienced in over four decades of life. I hoped there was nothing worse in store in my future.

          The meeting had scarcely concluded when Octavian dispatched a team of earthcrafters to begin the necessary repairs to the High Lord’s tower. Since this was to be the interim seat of his power for an unknown length of time, it needed to be in excellent condition. Most of Riva’s team of engineers had survived and Octavian soon instructed Riva to have them begin repairing the sections of the city which had taken the most damage. Some of the refugees had already started returning to the inhabitable areas. As with the town outside Garrison, the sight of them returning to their homes lifted my spirits.

          There was only the question of food to consider. I’d stockpiled quite a bit in Riva in preparation for a possible siege, but most of it had been left behind when we had to retreat. We’d brought some with us from Garrison, however it wasn’t enough to keep such a large amount of people fed for any extended period of time. Octavian sent a handful of Tribunes Logista to see what remained of the food stores. Surely some of it was fit to eat! We’d hardly been gone two weeks—not nearly enough time for all of it to spoil! If none of it was edible, we’d be in for some difficulty.

          “Sire, you should know that I had all the land for miles in every direction surrounding the city burnt to slow the advance of the _croach_ ,” I informed him. I was beginning to regret that decision now. “The _croach_ needs organic material to spread. I thought burning the land would suffice to slow it down and buy us more time.”

          Octavian studied me for a moment, then nodded. “I noticed when we marched to Riva. It was a sound tactic, if not one that would endear you to those who live here.”

          “In such dire times, all leaders must make hard choices.” Something stirred in Octavian’s eyes, and I knew he understood. Certainly more than his mother had, anyway. “The goal was to save Alera. Any other considerations paled beside that.”

          To my surprise, a small smile formed on Octavian’s lips. “Trust me, I know exactly what you mean. We’ll have to send out teams of earthcrafters to get the land ready for planting and woodcrafters to grow crops.”

          “It should be possible,” I replied. “I’d suggest sending whatever earthcrafters are not engaged in rebuilding the city. And I’d happily offer my own services, whenever I have the time anyway. Some of the other High Lords might be willing to join in as well.”

          “I’ll bring it up with them and make it clear that while I won’t order them to participate, I would vastly prefer that they did.”

          I couldn’t help but grin at that. “In my experience, people respond better to suggestions rather than outright orders. A bit of sweetness makes the bitter medicine easier to swallow. You are aware that not all of the High Lords are entirely pleased to have you as First Lord?”

          “Well aware, Lord Aquitaine. It seems the threat of the Vord could only unite Alera for so long,” Octavian observed.

          “It is indeed very unfortunate. A bit of solidarity is precisely what we could use while we rebuild. Would you welcome some advice?” Octavian gave a slight nod, though his eyes were wary. He didn’t trust me, which was perfectly understandable. I wondered if I would ever be able to win his trust. “You see, I’ve known and dealt with most of the other High Lords for years. I know Gaius gave you something of a political education, but you can’t have interacted with them to any significant extent. You need to strike a good balance—too firm and they’ll raise a stink about the First Lord abusing his powers; too soft and they’ll take it for weakness. In my experience, strong yet supple is the best way to rule.”

          “Thank you for your advice. As it so happens, I had the same thought regarding my approach.”

          “I wish you good luck with it.”

 

**

 

          Later, I found myself once again in the camp of the First Aleran. This time it wasn’t to pay a visit to Raucus. A brief conversation with a sentry led me in the direction of the First Spear Centurion’s tent. I hoped he was there and not running drills or some such thing. It was time I confronted Fidelias. As I walked to his tent, I found myself thinking back to the beginning of our association. He was the one who’d approached me once he realized that Gaius’s rule was leading the Realm to disaster. The contact had come with the offer of handing his student over to me so I might gain information about Gaius’s personal chambers from her. I never could’ve guessed then that the very same student would save my life. I never liked Fidelias all that much, especially his infuriating tendency to interrupt me while I was attempting to take my pleasure, but I was well-aware of how useful and skilled he was. I let Invidia deal with him most of the time, which she was only too eager to do. She’d joined him undercover with the First Aleran when she disappeared.

          I stood outside the tent and called out, “Valiar Marcus, I would have words with you!”

          A minute passed, then the tent flap opened. Fidelias, still entirely in his Valiar Marcus guise, stared at me with a hint of fear in his eyes. Did he truly think I intended to kill him? I did threaten him if he crossed me when we began our association, but I could hardly do anything without risking the First Lord’s wrath. “Come in, Lord Aquitaine,” he said in a gruff voice somewhat different from his usual manner of speaking.

          I followed him into the tent. It was almost entirely devoid of furnishings, save for the standard Legion-issue essentials. I quickly set a windcrafting against eavesdropping—no reason for the rest of the camp to hear our conversation—and faced him. “It’s been a long time, Fidelias.”

          “Yes, my lord.” His posture was as straight as the protocol when addressing a High Lord dictated, but there was something a little too stiff about the way he held his shoulders.

          “I thought perhaps you were dead, or perhaps you’d simply decided to elope with Invidia,” I remarked casually.

          “The Legion left to escort the Canim home. I could hardly send reports while in the middle of the ocean.”

          “Indeed, but would you have sent them had that not been the case?”

          “No.” He spoke the word without any hesitation—he knew there was no way he could lie to me, not even with all his Cursor training.

          “Ah. Now I begin to understand. You figured out Octavian’s true identity long before he publicly embraced it, didn’t you?”

          “Yes.”

          “You didn’t expect me to voluntarily abdicate, either.”

          “No.”

          “Neither did I. If you told me a year ago that I’d do such a thing, I’d have thought you mad. But Octavian is Septimus’s son, and I loved Septimus dearly.” A man as well-informed as Fidelias surely knew of our friendship, but I decided to remind him anyway.

          “I knew of your old friendship, my lord. You did not strike me as the sort of man to sacrifice ambition for sentiment,” he replied.

          “I would not necessarily call it sentiment but rather loyalty to the greatest friend I ever had.” I met his eyes. “Fidelias, is it not my intention to kill or harm you in any way. Rather, I thought it time we cleared the air between us. You and I both owe our lives to the First Lord’s mercy. One word from him and we’ll both be up on crosses before the city walls. I intend to serve him loyally from now on, as a High Lord should serve the First Lord and as I would’ve served his father.”

          “I am glad to hear it.”

          I grinned at him. “I suppose Invidia’s charms were not enough to keep you in her clutches. Unsurprising, since she was colder than an Iceman’s balls even when she was trying to be seductive.”

          “You knew about us?”

          Did he really not know that I knew? “I’ve known since the beginning; I simply didn’t give a damn who Invidia chose to take to bed.” It was true. When we came to our agreement, I informed her that I didn’t care if she took any lovers, as long as she kept it discreet and didn’t have any children by them. We’d already made the decision not to have children of our own and I wouldn’t have another man’s children be passed off as mine. She actually held up her end of the bargain—the idea of motherhood never held any appeal for her. I never heard of her taking many lovers, which was unsurprising. Invidia only ever viewed lovemaking as a means to an end, not an end in itself. She only ever came to my bed when she wanted something from me. Invidia derived her pleasure solely from plotting, treachery, and the pursuit of power.

          “You could say our association didn’t end amicably,” said Fidelias. “I tendered my resignation to her with a poisoned balest bolt to the chest.”

          That I hadn’t known. It could’ve just as easily been one of the Canim or an Aleran who discovered her true identity. “Too bad you weren’t a bit more thorough.”

          “I regret that I wasn’t.”

          “Well, she is truly dead now, at your own former student’s hands. Our association is now over and irrelevant in any case. I never would’ve pursued the throne at all had I known of the existence of Octavian and have no intentions of pursuing it now,” I told him.

          “Then we will both serve him as he rebuilds Alera,” he replied.

          “That is my intention.” Without another word, I turned and left the tent. I had nothing left to say to him. That particular unfinished business had been dealt with. However, our conversation had got me thinking, about the subject of marriage to be specific. I would have to give serious thought to the subject of marrying again once I returned to Aquitaine. It wasn’t that I had any special attachment to the idea of marriage—I’ve taken my pleasure outside it since I was a boy not yet come to manhood—but I was without any legitimate children. Eolus was the heir apparent at the moment. I’d planned on seeing to this once I’d gained the throne by ridding myself of Invidia and taking a new wife of my own choosing. Caria was the prime candidate, as she was beautiful, of sufficient status, and completely infatuated with me, but she was dead now. I would have to find myself another potential wife. This time, it would be _my_ choice and no one else’s.

          It had been during my months-long period of deep mourning for Septimus that my parents informed me that they’d found me a wife. I’d shut myself up in my rooms and spent my days doing little other than lying on my bed, so great was the immensity of my grief. I hardly picked at the trays of food the servants regularly placed on the bedside tables. Seeing me behave in such an uncharacteristic way had my parents worried and they concluded that I needed a wife to bring me out of it. Invidia was chosen for me because of her power and skill, and also because she brought with her connections to the Northern High Lords. It was best for us to shore up a solid Northern alliance against the Kalarus-Rhodes power bloc in the south, they told me. I was furious when they informed me of their decision. Marriage was the last thing I wanted at that time, least of all to Invidia. I’d known her at the Academy and there was a good reason why I’d never attempted to seduce her. My parents didn’t know this; all they saw were the advantages of the match, not how ill-suited we were for each other. I pleaded and begged them to break the engagement, but they refused.

          There would be none of that this time.

          My thoughts were so absorbed with the subject of marriage that I hardly noticed I was nearly at the High Lord’s tower. Just before reaching it, I made an abrupt turn and headed south. I couldn’t say exactly what compelled me to do so—some subconscious need to return to the site of my confrontation with Invidia, I suppose. The southern plaza was exactly as I’d left it that night. The buildings surrounding it had taken extensive damage in the fight. My eyes fixed on the rooftop where I’d faced off against her. Even from my vantage point on the ground, the gaping hole where she’d blasted the roof away could still be seen, along with the damage from my fire-sphere. I might have met my death here, had Amara not warned me in time. The plaza itself bore some signs of my charade with my furies. I tried to minimize the damage, but it still had to look believable. Invidia had never actually seen my furies manifested—it was the perfect ruse. The setup had worked entirely too well.

          “Attis?”

          I was jolted out of my thoughts and turned sharply to see Amara standing behind me, looking at the rooftop where she’d fought Invidia in an attempt to protect me. It was jarring to hear her address me by name, but I reckoned she’d earned that right. “Amara. Fancy meeting you here.”

          “At least the circumstances are better than last time.”

          “Very much so. Did you follow me?”

          “Yes,” she answered. “I have a message from the First Lord. He’s got the results of the food surveys and wishes to hold a meeting to discuss them.”

          “When?”

          “In a half hour.” She tilted her head to the side and looked at me with curious eyes. “Why did you come here?”

          I looked away from her and back at the ruined rooftop as I contemplated the question. “I’m… not entirely sure. I just felt some compulsion to come back here.”

          “Some sense of guilt over what happened to Invidia?” she asked in an amused tone.

          I laughed. “Hardly. I told you I’d been longing to be rid of her since we were married.”

          “Well, you’re certainly rid of her now.”

          “Yes, and I have you to thank for it.”

          She smiled. “It was a genuine pleasure. I can honestly say I’d been wanting to do that for years.”

          “That makes two of us.” My gaze remained fixed on the rooftop. “I’m sorry.”

          “For what?”

          “For using you and Bernard in my scheme to draw out Invidia.”

          She raised her eyebrows. “Didn’t you apologize for that already?”

          “Not specifically, as I recall. I feel the need to say it with both of us here,” I replied.

          “Your apology is accepted. I think we’re officially past all of that at this point. Even my husband has a small amount of respect for you now after you made those offerings to the dead of Second Calderon. I don’t think he’ll ever consider you a friend, but he no longer hates you and wants you dead,” she told me.

          “I will consider that a compliment,” I said with a smile. “And what about you? Would you consider me a friend?”

          Amara returned my smile. “I never would’ve imagined it, but yes. I do consider you a friend.”

          “Then as a friend, let me share with you something that will soothe your mind. You know Fidelias is alive, do you not?”

          “Yes.”

          “He was the one who shot Invidia with a poisoned balest bolt. It seems her charms weren’t enough to keep him loyal.”

          “Why would he do such a thing?”

          “Because,” I began, “he discovered the true identity of the Captain of the First Aleran and adjusted his loyalties accordingly.”

          Amara nodded slowly. “I saw him marching behind Tavi when they first came to Garrison and dared to hope he might’ve changed his course. Tavi had to have known that was him. He’d seen Fidelias up close at Second Calderon.”

          “Octavian told me he discovered Fidelias’s true identity just a few days ago and chose to spare his life, just as he spared mine. You can rest assured now that you and your former mentor are on the same side once again.”

          “Thank you for telling me this.”

          “I only just came from speaking with him,” I informed her. “I believe he harbors a certain amount of guilt over his actions.”

          “I will speak to him when I have a chance,” said Amara. There was sadness in her eyes and it was obvious Fidelias’s betrayal had hurt her deeply. “There is… a great deal I’d like to say to him.”

          “I think he’ll be willing to listen.” The tall form of the High Lord’s tower cast its shadow over us, reminding me of where I was supposed to be. “Well, I suppose it’s time I headed to that meeting. Always a pleasure, Countess Amara.”


	22. Renewal

          The food situation was, to put it simply, not ideal. What we’d brought from Garrison would hold us for only a few more weeks, a month at most. It was possible to request more from the fortress, but the food was needed just as badly there to feed the remaining refugees and Legions. Unfortunately for us, the Queen had discovered several of Riva’s stockpiles of food and destroyed them. She was canny enough not to leave any food behind for us if we did manage to retake the city. Only two had survived her destruction. These, combined with the food from Garrison, would only suffice to feed the city and Legions for a few months at most. Planting had to begin as soon as possible. It was still early enough in the season for nearly all of the spring planting to take place. The problem was that the land surrounding Riva had been burnt for miles in every direction.

          The following morning, Octavian assembled a team of Knights Terra to begin preparing the fields for planting. Several Citizens would be participating as well, along with all the High Lords. Strangely, I found myself actually looking forward to it. I hadn’t been doing too much crafting, aside from raising memorials, and a bit of strenuous physical work would be a welcome change from so many rounds of meetings. Learning how to prepare earth for planting was part of the standard earthcrafting education. I hadn’t bothered to pay much attention to it at the Academy, as I never thought I’d need to do it. I was eager to get to the more fun uses for earthcrafting, such as inciting lust and attacking. But I was glad, now, that I hadn’t completely ignored the farming lessons.

          Octavian had us spread out across land which had once been fields, circling the city. Each of us High Lords had a small group of Knights Terra and other earthcrafters with the necessary level of skill under our immediate supervision. My group had in it a steadholder from the area, who took it upon himself to share his knowledge of the land. Since he clearly knew more about this entire procedure than I did, I let him direct our group.

          When the time came to begin, I planted my feet firmly on the ground and reached out to my earth furies. I had two of them, one of whom had been with me since I was a young boy. He didn’t have a name—none of my furies did—but I always imagined him as a snake. Something about the way earth furies moved under the surface, raising mounds of earth as they went, reminded me of a snake slithering along the ground. Thus, that was how he manifested for me. The other came to me when I was older. At that time I was entirely preoccupied with the uses earthcrafting has for seduction, so I always thought of that one as female. She manifested as a magnificent lioness. Neither of them manifested now, of course, as they were busy replacing the burned topsoil with a fresh layer of rich soil suitable for farming. Between the two of them they covered a larger radius of land than anyone else’s furies. They were also the first to finish.

          We stopped for a brief meal of bread smeared with a garlic and herb cheese spread, then got back to work. By the time evening came, our group had several fields ready for planting. My body felt pleasantly tired when the day was done, much as it did after a strenuous bout of fencing practice. It was a good kind of tired, completely unlike the utter exhaustion I experienced after the assassination attempt. It also ensured I slept soundly, with no war-related nightmares to trouble my mind. They’d been occurring on and off since we reached Riva, though there was nothing like the dead bodies we’d burned and buried along the way to instigate them. I suppose it would take time for them to fade once the Vord War was no longer so fresh in my mind.

          I was out in the fields again the next day. This time I only spent part of the day there—Octavian needed me on hand to make plans for liberating the other cities. There was still much to be done here before we could start on that, but it wasn’t too soon to begin making plans. The process of repairing Riva and making it fit to be an interim capital was also taking up a great deal of time and energy. The Senate had already resumed holding sessions in the same chamber they’d used before. I was glad I had no reason to attend any of these sessions as of yet. Most of the Senate had unfortunately survived, and many of the senators were as opposed to Octavian as First Lord as they’d always been. I was beginning to regret using the Senate as a tool to pressure Isana—once they’d started questioning Octavian’s legitimacy, they didn’t seem inclined to stop. I might have to make a speech to the Senate supporting him, lest he and Isana assume I was still meddling with it. After another brief midday meal, I left the earthcrafters and headed off to meet with Octavian.

          “You did _WHAT??!!_ ” Raucus’s voice rang out through the empty hallway outside the room Octavian was using for meetings.

          “I gave the Shieldwall to the Icemen,” Octavian answered calmly. I stopped in my tracks several steps from the door. He hadn’t mentioned that before—no wonder Raucus was furious.

          “Gave the Shieldwall to the Icemen,” Raucus repeated. “ _Gave_ it to them.”

          “Yes, Lord Antillus. I _gave_ them the Shieldwall,” said Octavian. “You made peace with them before taking the Antillan Legions south. Surely you can see that it is better to have peace rather than constant war.”

          “I can see that,” Raucus snapped, “but this is different. The Shieldwall was built by Alerans and Alerans have shed their blood defending it for centuries! You can’t just give it away!”

          “I think you’ll find I can,” Octavian retorted calmly.

          I chose to make my presence known at that moment and strode into the room. Both of them turned to greet me. “Welcome, Lord Aquitaine,” said Octavian. “Lord Antillus and I were just discussing the Shieldwall, but we’re finished now.”

          “We are.” Raucus rose from his seat so quickly he bumped a knee against the table. He stormed out of the room, glancing briefly at me before making his exit. I sat down in the chair he’d just vacated and faced Octavian.

          “Well, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by his reaction,” Octavian began. “Max did warn me.”

          “He’s spent much of his life defending the wall from the Icemen,” I reminded him. “It took a _juris macto_ duel with your mother to make him accept the possibility of peace.”

          “Do you think he will come to accept this? I’ve counted him among my staunch supporters and would prefer to keep that support. I understand you were good friends with him once.”

          “Yes. You could say we’ve recently rekindled our friendship after not seeing each other for many years. If you’re concerned about Raucus turning treasonous, I don’t think you need worry. Raucus hated Gaius after your father’s death, but he stayed loyal nonetheless,” I assured him.

          “Thank you for that reassurance.”

          “May I speak plainly, sire?”

          “Please,” Octavian answered, inclining his head a fraction.

          “I’m not sure I disagree with Raucus on this matter, and not because I’d rather have endless war with the Icemen. This is going to make you a lot of enemies among the people and Legions of the Shield cities. This is pushing too hard, too fast.”

          “I needed the Icemens’ assistance to get from Antillus to Phrygia as quickly as possible. What would you have had me do, Lord Aquitaine? My mother might’ve made an initial peace with them, but more was needed.”

          I raised a hand, conceding his point. “Then I suggest you make the Shield cities the first ones you liberate, and you do it in person. That way you’ll be a hero to them. It’ll make your gifting of the Shieldwall to the Icemen go down easier.”

          He took a moment to consider my suggestion before speaking again. “Your idea has merit. Phrygia is first on my list. As you will no doubt be interested to hear, Aquitaine is second.”

          I couldn’t keep the delighted smile off my face. Aquitaine was the next-closest city to Riva after Phrygia and I’d been hoping that proximity would mean I wouldn’t have to wait long. “I am overjoyed to hear that, sire. I’ve been growing increasingly homesick for my city as of late.”

          “I’d like to begin the liberations as soon as possible, once the new crops have been harvested. The food will be needed in order for the Legions to march. We can’t expect there to be anything to forage along the way, or any significant amounts of food in the besieged cities,” he elaborated.

          “Of course. My cousin informed me he’d have to put Aquitaine on rations when I told him it’d be some time yet before we could liberate the city. It’s a good thing I had the foresight to stock the city’s food stores as much as I could while preparing for a siege.”

          “Indeed. I don’t think breaking the sieges will be too difficult. If we hit them hard like we did at Garrison with a big push and a lot of battlecrafting, they should scatter,” he replied.

          “From what I’ve heard, I’m inclined to agree with you. If the defenders can make it out of the gates, we can crush the Vord between us like hammer and anvil.”

          Octavian nodded. “Just as you and I did at the Calderon Valley.”

          “The very same, only with better communication this time. Would you require my presence to assist in the liberation of Phrygia?” I asked.

          He rested his chin in his hand, thinking over his answer. “As of right now, I will say no. Between myself and the High Lords of Phrygia and Antillus, I think we can handle it.”

          I was extremely pleased to hear that, though I was careful to keep my expression neutral. “And I’m confident I can liberate Aquitaine on my own, without assistance from you or any of the other High Lords.”

          “Good. I won’t be able to be present at every single liberation—there’s simply too much to do. I can attend to those most in need of my presence, but otherwise you High Lords will be on your own,” he explained. “I intend to introduce anti-slavery legislation in the Senate as soon as possible.”

          That took me aback—I hadn’t expected him to proceed with that particular reform so soon. It wasn’t that I was opposed to it, but rather the simple fact that I did own three slaves. They were all dancing girls, two Invidia bought for me and one I acquired during the campaign against Kalarus. This had occasionally troubled my conscience in the beginning, as I’d largely supported Septimus’s abolition plans, but I found myself succumbing to temptation when it was paraded before me. I’ve always had a weakness for beautiful women. Of course, it had been Invidia who’d bought me the first one. I tried to ease my guilty conscience by making sure to treat them well. I never once used discipline collars. While not illegal, they are not common in Aquitaine. Our laws do provide protections for slaves.

          Well, there was no getting around it now—I’d have to free them. The thought was not an entirely distressing one, for I’d accepted this as a possible outcome of Invidia’s anti-slavery campaign. A High Lord has a degree of freedom to do as he chooses, especially in his own home, but appearances needed to be maintained. We’d owned no other slaves, a fact Invidia milked for all it was worth to get me the support of the Dianic League. No mention was made of the dancing girls. It was time I did what I should’ve done from the start. “I see it’s a priority for you,” I commented, keeping my face carefully neutral, “but are you sure now is the best time? Rebuilding must be our first priority.”

          “Now is the perfect time,” Octavian countered. “The sense of solidarity among the people is still strong. What better time than now to appeal to our common humanity? Besides, everyone is so focused on rebuilding they’ll be less likely to provide vocal opposition.”

          I grinned. “Very sneaky. I approve.”

          “I will expect your support, Lord Aquitaine. As I recall, your late wife was behind the abolition proposal made right before Kalarus’s rebellion began. Your opposition to slavery is well-known.”

          “You will have it. I’ll even address the Senate on the subject after my city is set to rights,” I replied.

          “Of course. No doubt you’ll liven up the proceedings considerably.”

          That was the last I heard of Octavian’s abolition plans for a little while. I continued to spend part of my days out in the fields. When they were ready for planting, most of the earthcrafters left to assist with repairing the city, to be replaced by woodcrafters. The planting was as strenuous as preparing the soil, though in a different way. Coaxing life from seeds proved to be very satisfying, and not just because we needed food. I’d burned this land to slow the advance of the _croach_ , a substance which choked out all living things as it spread. The Vord would’ve wiped out all non-Vord life had they won. Every single green shoot that poked its way out of the earth was a symbol of perseverance, of the tenacity of life. Let me make it clear, however, that I had no sudden desire to retire from my office and take up farming. I drew the line at assisting with the harvest—there were plenty of ordinary folk who could help with that.

          Preparations for the liberations soon began in earnest. In the cases of the besieged cities and those in areas which hadn’t been as hard-hit, their own Legions would be handling the job. The cities whose Legions had been nearly decimated would require extra assistance. They’d have to wait until more Legions were available to assist them. The exception was Phrygia—the Antillan Legions would be accompanying the Phrygian Legions home before returning to their own city. As for Aquitaine, I assured Octavian I could take back my city with nothing more than my three original Legions and the extra ones I’d formed after the destruction of Alera Imperia. All Alerans are proud and loyal to their home cities; we Aquitainians are especially so. My captains reported that the men were as eager to return home as I was. So eager, in fact, that they were growing restless.

          We’d been in Riva for perhaps a month and a half before the time came. Thanks to the efforts of the woodcrafters, the crops we’d planted were now ready for harvesting. It was summer now, the perfect time for a campaign. That was precisely what this would be, for we’d liberate any town or steadholt under Vord control we encountered on the way home. I hoped there wouldn’t be too many of them. I couldn’t imagine the Queen expending much thought or energy on such small settlements. My greatest hope was that the vineyards had been left largely intact and not destroyed or covered in _croach_. According to Isana the Queen had some strange fascination with humans even while slaughtering us in massive numbers—did that extend to wine production? If many of the vineyards were destroyed, we’d be in trouble. Wine was my province’s main export. Without the lucrative wine trade, our economy would suffer. I had enough to do without having to find another profitable export.

          But there would be time for those worries later. For now, I was overjoyed that I was going home at last. The two separate groups would be setting off for their destinations on the same day, so Octavian held a banquet the night before as a proper send off. With the harvest now underway, a bit of indulgence when it came to food was permissible. It was something of a relief after so many days of modest meals. I didn’t know what would be waiting for me in that regard at home. The city’s food supplies would be low and I could only hope the surrounding countryside wasn’t covered in _croach_. We’d bring food with us of course, but it wouldn’t be enough to feed the city and the Legions for long.

          “You excited about going home?” Raucus asked as we enjoyed our largest meal in weeks.

          “Excited is an understatement!” I replied with a laugh. “What about you? Are you eager to get back to Antillus?”

          “Just as eager as you are. I’ve had enough farming for a while.”

          “That makes two of us. To be completely honest, I’ve been longing to return to Aquitaine since I left after my last visit. It was awful, being unable to contact the city and having no idea what was going on.”

          “I felt the same way,” said Raucus. “Right now I want my city back and I don’t plan on going easy on those bloody bugs.”

          “Neither do I. I’ve got a bit of… pent-up aggression I intend to release on them.”

          Raucus laughed heartily and patted me on the back. “Wish I could be there to see it!”

          “You’ll just have to come visit Aquitaine later,” I replied. “And I promise I’ll visit Antillus once my province has been set to rights. Speaking of which,” I lowered my voice, as Antillar Maximus was only a few seats down from us, “were you able to convince Max to return to Antillus with you?”

          He became instantly subdued. “No. He told me he needs to assist the First Lord now, but he will come to see Crassus when he can. It’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

          “Yes, it is better than nothing.” I hoped, for Raucus’s sake, that the relationship would slowly begin to heal. The man deserved to have a happy family life after twenty years stuck in a bad marriage. With peace on the Shieldwall, Raucus could finally spend time with his sons. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to make up for lost time.

          “Will you promise me something, Attis?” he asked, fixing me with his stormy grey gaze.

          “Depends on what sort of promise you have in mind,” I answered with a grin.

          “Promise me you won’t cut me off again,” he said earnestly. “You told me you don’t want to lose our rekindled friendship. Well, I feel the same way. Spending so much time with you reminded me of how much fun we used to have together. I can see clearly now that the old Attis isn’t dead at all.”

          “You could say he’s having something of a resurgence.” I had to own that his words touched me. Here was the proof that he valued our relationship as much as I did. “And I promise you I won’t cut you out again. I’ll even make weekly watersendings if you like, you slow-witted northern snowcrow!”

          “That won’t be necessary, you prancing pretty boy,” he retorted with a grin, “but watersendings would be welcome.”

          “And if I don’t send them as often as you’d like?”

          “Then I’ll come to Aquitaine and kick your ass in the _juris macto_!” Raucus slapped me on the back again for emphasis. I could hardly keep my laughter from echoing in the dining hall. Yes, it was very good to have him as a friend once more.


	23. The Road to Aquitaine

          When I woke the next morning, I was in a jubilant mood. Laelia, who’d kept me company the night before, was just as excited to be returning home. “Still thinking of taking up acting?” I asked her as I pulled on my clothes

          “Yes! I’m hoping a company of actors in the city’ll be willing to take me on.” The enthusiasm in her voice was almost infectious.

          “I wish you all the best of luck with it. I think we’ll all need a bit of distracting entertainment once the city is retaken. Sieges aren’t exactly known for being exciting.” I watched Laelia pin her dress in place, then pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve greatly enjoyed our time together, Laelia. You have been a fine bed companion to me.”

          “Thank you, my lord. I’ll miss you.”

          I released her, kissed her softly on the lips, and headed down to breakfast. We’d be leaving soon after the meal was done, so I had to restrain myself from eating too quickly out of eagerness to be gone. During the meal, I was somewhat taken aback by how many people wished me farewell and good luck. I couldn’t help but think on how my relationships with many of them had changed for the better. Those with Amara, Isana, and Doroga were only the most drastic examples. And all I’d had to do was nearly die in the service of my country and then willingly abdicate the throne. All of this served to make me even more determined not to mess up this second chance I’d been given. “When my city is liberated and all the necessary repairs made, you will all be welcome in Aquitaine!” I announced when the meal was nearly done.

          “And you’ll be welcome in Antillus!” Raucus retorted.

          I grinned. “You won’t stop until you get me there, will you?”

          “Not likely.”

          Octavian’s lips twitched up into what might’ve been the beginnings of a grin. “I fully intend to visit Aquitaine once things are somewhat settled. I’ve never been there and a First Lord ought to know his realm.”

          “Very true. Aquitaine is one of the most beautiful cities in Alera, if I do say so myself,” I replied. “Your father visited me there more than once.”

          When breakfast came to an end, I gave the order for the Aquitainian Legions to form up on the plain to the south of Riva and make ready to march. To the north of the city, the Phrygian and Antillan Legions were doing the same. I made my farewell to Raucus then. He immediately enveloped me in a tight embrace. “Remember what I said to you last night,” he murmured.

          “How could I forget?” I patted him on the back. “Good luck, Raucus.”

          He released me and smiled. “You too, Attis.”

          Amara was next. “I believe I’ll take you up on that invitation sometime.”

          “I’d be happy to welcome you,” I replied. “I should warn you, though—my cousin Eolus will likely challenge you to a race.”

          She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

          “Let’s just say he overidentifies with the falcon on our sigil.”

          Much to my surprise, she embraced me briefly. “Thank you for giving me that tip about Fidelias.”

          “You’re welcome. Did you speak to him?”

          “Yes.” I didn’t press her for any details—what passed between them was their business—but I sensed both satisfaction and relief in her.

          “I’m glad to hear it. It seems things have finally come full circle from that day I had the Windwolves capture you.”

          She smiled warmly. “Yes, they have.”

          Octavian approached me once all the other goodbyes had been said. “I will expect regular updates.”

          “I will be sure to send them.”

          “If you should find yourself in need of additional Legions or other aid, contact me via watersending and I’ll have whatever you need dispatched from Riva.”

          “I’ll do so should the need arise.”

          “Make sure you keep careful records of all the damages done and repairs made,” he instructed me. “I’ll need to look at them before calculating how much your reparation payments will be. I don’t want your people to suffer for your mistakes.”

          “Duly noted.”

          “Good luck, Lord Aquitaine.”

          “The same to you, sire.”

          It was time for me to depart.

          There was no packing to do, as Flavius had already taken care of my trunks. All I had to do was don my armor. Aquitaine was two days’ march away, but it was entirely possible we’d encounter Vord hordes along the way. Besides, I needed to cut an impressive figure when riding in front of my Legions. I tried to look my best on occasions such as this whenever possible. An important part of leadership is looking like a leader. Men are more likely to follow a High Lord who looks the part rather than one who looks like he should be working as a clerk somewhere. Of necessity I wore the suit I’d left behind in Riva. The other one still bore the marks of my duel with the Queen. Her furycrafted blade had sliced right through it, and the edges of the slashes she’d made were corroded from the poison on her sword. I could’ve had a master armorer repair it, but I elected to leave it the way it was. Just like the scars on my body, those slashes would stand as souvenirs of the duel. The only difference was that the scars would eventually fade. The armor would serve as a more permanent reminder.

          Once my armor was on, I headed to the southern gate. All three Aquitainian Legions were assembled in marching formation, along with the additional Legions I’d created after the destruction of Alera Imperia. Most of my surviving Citizens were there as well, save for those Senators who would remain to represent Aquitaine in the Senate. My horse was already saddled and ready. I immediately mounted up and rode out in front of the Legions where all of them could see me clearly. “Fellow Aquitainians, lend me your ears!” I began, using my wind furies to project my voice. “The day has come! Today we set forth to take back our city!”

          They erupted into loud cheers; I waited for them to calm down before continuing. “The Vord are currently besieging Aquitaine. Though the Queen is dead, her will still drives them on. Our beautiful city remains in peril. Will we tolerate this?”

          “NO!” they chorused in reply.

          My eyes migrated to the First Aquitaine standing right in front of me, its standard of a falcon clutching a pair of lightning bolts in its talons proudly displayed. “We have been through much together, from the Vord War to Kalarus’s rebellion. I know all of you are weary of war and ready to lay aside your swords for a while, but I must ask you to fight beside me once again. We have been gone from home for a long time. Let us show the Vord that we don’t appreciate their continued presence. We will drive them from our lands!” Cheers broke out once more. “Now, let us march for Aquitaine!”

          The answering cheers were so loud they nearly made the earth tremble. I joined Vitellus and the other officers of the First Aquitaine and we set out, my _singulares_ riding beside me. I might not be acting First Lord anymore, but a High Lord was entitled to have his own _singulares_. One of them rode in front with my standard, the black falcon on scarlet of the House of Aquitainus. Home. We were truly going home.

          The causeway running between Riva and Aquitaine hadn’t been cut, so we would have the benefits of it as we marched south. The Legions were positively ecstatic about going home, and we hadn’t even left the sight of Riva behind before they began singing an old marching song of the Aquitainian Legions. The song was full of praise and longing for the city and countryside. The song had been around during my time in the First Aquitaine; I suspected it was in fact quite an old one. As such, I knew the words as well as they did and soon found myself singing along. After that song ended, they moved on to more general Legion marching songs. The songs did make the time go faster.

          “The wait wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked Vitellus once we’d been on the road for perhaps a half hour.

          “It was longer than I’d have preferred,” he answered, “but I understand why it was necessary.”

          “The wait will make our homecoming all the sweeter.”

          Vitellus grinned. “And your own reunion with Camilla?”

          I returned his grin. “Naturally.”

          As if on cue, the _legionares_ took up another song, this with bawdier lyrics than the others. Vitellus leaned over and nudged me with his elbow. “Sounds like they’re thinking of your reunion with Camilla too!”

          “Indeed.” My own bedroom exploits were the subject of more than one marching song made up by the Aquitainian Legions. The lyrics compared my bedroom skills to my battlefield skills, with lines such as, _“He’ll fuck the Vord as hard as he fucks Camilla!_ ” The original line had mentioned Kalarus in place of the Vord—they’d seen fit to update it once the Vord War began. A more prudish man would’ve blushed; I only found them amusing. My relationship with Camilla was well-known to the people of Aquitaine. How could it not be, with me the High Lord and she one of the most famous courtesans in the city? The references in the songs weren’t intended to be disapproving or mocking, at least for those who weren’t moralizing types. Aquitaine is known throughout Alera for its courtesans and we Aquitainians are thus known for having rather looser morals than most Alerans. I took a certain amount of pride in that and in my own reputation as Alera’s greatest lover. The _legionares_ seemed to take it as a matter of pride that their High Lord was as known for his prowess in bed as he was for his prowess in battle. I was quite satisfied with that as my reputation.

          Vitellus began to sing along with the _legionares_. I kept quiet this time, as I felt odd singing about myself in such a way. I did, however, enjoy listening to others sing it. My heart felt lighter as we continued our journey south, the thought of encountering Vord along the way drifting to the back of my mind. The time continued to pass quickly. We reached the first town when we were two hours out from Riva. It had already been liberated and immediate area cleared of Vord, so there was naught for us to do there. Nonetheless, the people turned out to cheer for us. I waved to them as we passed through the town. There was no reason for us to stop, so we kept marching onward.

          It was midday when we came to the boundary stone that marked the end of Riva’s territory and the start of mine. I couldn’t help but let out a shout of happiness when I saw it. The shout was soon taken up by the Legions. It might not’ve been Aquitaine itself, but we were in our home territory now. When the cheering was done, we had a brief meal before moving on. As we marched forward, I occupied myself by studying the countryside. It wasn’t unfamiliar to me—I’d passed this way recently when I returned to Riva after shoring up Aquitaine’s defenses—but I couldn’t say I knew it as well as other parts of my province. The plains gave way to rolling hills, which would gradually increase in size until they became mountains. Yet despite the terrain, there was rich farmland in this area. Wide valleys lay between the mountains. The land wasn’t quite as fertile as the Amaranth Vale, but it was more than sufficient to grow the grapes needed to produce our wines.

          Some time passed before we reached another settlement. This area was not as heavily populated as the southern part of my province, although the land there was much the same. However, the winters were significantly colder and harsher in the north. I didn’t mind the cold, but many people did not feel the same. I wondered if the Marat minded—they did live rather far north themselves. This might be an ideal area for them to settle if they were agreeable. Having them in a less-populous area would make their integration easier for the Aleran population.

          We saw no Vord until we reached the first steadholt. A pack of wild Vord could be seen moving about nearby, likely remnants of the huge army the Queen sent against the Calderon Valley. I turned to Vitellus and grinned. “I can handle these all by myself, but have the Legions stand ready if any more appear.” I nudged my horse forward.

          A couple of fire-spheres later, all that remained of the Vord were a few piles of ashes. Yes, they were certainly easier to kill now that the Queen was dead. I turned to see several of the holders walking down the path toward us. “Your grace,” said an older man I assumed to be the steadholder. “Thank you. You are most welcome here.”

          “I assure you I am very glad to be here,” I replied genially.

          “We have been wondering when you would return home,” he continued. “The people around here have lived in fear ever since you left.”

          I lowered my head a fraction. “I regret that I was unable to defend my lands and people personally. My duty to Alera as a whole kept me away. But I am here now, and I mean to reclaim my lands and my city. How fare things here?”

          “We’re fortunate enough to not have been attacked by Vord,” he informed me. “Haven’t been so lucky with feral furies, though.”

          My eyebrows rose at that; I knew well they were still out there, but somehow my mind had failed to register the possibility that some might’ve headed into my province. It was excusable, considering the myriad of things I currently had on my mind, but I felt rather stupid to have overlooked it. “You’ve been attacked by them here?”

          He nodded solemnly. “I’ve lost three of my holders to them.”

          “My condolences to you. If it weren’t necessary for us to reach Aquitaine as soon as possible, I’d take some time to look for them. For now I suggest you avoid going outside alone and instead do so in small groups,” I offered.

          “We will do that. I understand that you must break the siege on the city.”

          “Your warnings about feral furies are noted,” I replied. We continued on soon after that, passing by more towns and steadholts, where we were greeted enthusiastically. People lined the streets in the towns, waving and cheering. I smiled as I soaked up the attention and waved back. I’ve always been popular among my people. We encountered a few scattered groups of Vord, but they were easily dealt with. The first real trouble came at dusk, when we were just about to make camp for the night.

          An alarm went up from the left column. I immediately turned away from the campsite and rode over to see what had caused the commotion. I was really not in the mood for a Vord attack when I wanted to eat some dinner and retire to my tent for the night. It didn’t take long to discover the source of the disturbance. Three feral furies were currently attacking the lines of the Second Aquitaine. An earth fury had already crushed one _legionare_ and prepared to charge as the lines formed a shield wall. Nearby, a fire fury was menacing another group. Above all of this came the shriek of a wind fury as it swooped down to tear at the faces of the _legionares_. Knights moved forward to engage the furies.

          “Halt!” I shouted. Captain Ilias gave me a questioning look, though he signaled for the trumpeters to carry out my order. “I’ll handle this myself.” I rode over to the scene and dismounted. If we drove off the feral furies, they would simply head back out into the countryside to attack more unlucky folk. There was only one solution—I had to try to claim them. My eyes locked on the three attacking furies. The key to claiming was establishing dominance. Your own will had to be pure steel in order to bend them to it. It also required intense concentration, which was why it had been a perfect ruse to draw out Invidia. _Stop,_ I commanded the furies.

          They didn’t like that. The earth fury turned away from the _legionares_ , let out a furious roar and charged at me. My own earth furies manifested in front of me, halting it in its path. _You will stop._ I called upon my watercrafting next, to form the base for the claiming. It was the crucial element needed to bind a fury to you. Over that went the element specific to that fury, in this case earth. I locked eyes with the fury. It was a good-sized one, fairly powerful, and it had the shape of a large, lumbering bear. _You are mine._ I focused my energy on exerting my will over the creature. Perhaps a minute passed before I felt the fury subjugate its will to mine. I stretched out an arm, fingers curled into a fist, and motioned it toward me. The fury obeyed, its head hanging down in a gesture of submission. With a wave of my hand, I dismissed it. It sank back into the ground with no protests.

          Two more furies remained. I chose to turn my attention to the fire fury next. It had the appearance of some great, elegant bird with a long tail, perhaps a peacock. I repeated the process I’d used with the earth fury, only replacing earth with fire. This fury, despite its elegant appearance, put up more of a fight. It swooped down on me, its fiery beak aiming for my throat. I called upon my wind furies to intercept it and hold it back while I subdued it. _You will stop this now. You are mine!_

          The fury struggled—I could feel how much it wanted to burn me—but in the end my will overpowered it. I immediately summoned my water furies and had them dose the new fire fury before it got any thoughts of breaking away from my control. Now only the wind fury remained. The air around me was thick with power; I found it energizing. The _legionares_ had taken a few steps back and were watching me with rapt attention. The world narrowed to me and the wind fury. I felt power surge within me as I extended a hand to hold it in place. _You will stop where you are and go no further. These are my lands and you will trouble them no more. You are mine!_

          The fury came at me; I warded it off. My own wind furies formed a protective barrier around me, ready to intercept any attack. The other fury was little more than a blur, searching determinedly for a way past my defenses. _You are mine!_ I repeated. I could almost feel its will pushing back against mine. This was a powerful fury, that was certain. _You cannot win. You will not best me. You are mine. Mine. MINE!!!_

          There was a sudden loosening of tension, like a bow being unstrung, and I knew I’d won. The wind fury materialized before me, and I realized with some surprise that it had taken the shape of a falcon. Well, it certainly was appropriate. A chorus of loud cheers broke out from the watching _legionares_. No doubt it looked very impressive to them. “Well done!” exclaimed Vitellus. “If you keep this up you’ll have a whole slew of new furies by the time we reach the city.”

          “Let’s just hope those are the last we’ll see.” We were fortunate that only a handful of _legionares_ had been killed in the attack and not many more were wounded. I had them sent off to the healing tents straightaway before retiring to my own tent for the night. It had been a long day and I found myself in need of rest.

          With any luck, I’d be sleeping in Aquitaine tomorrow night.

         

**Notes**

Marching songs- Caesar’s legions sang marching songs calling him a bald adulterer. This is where I got the idea for the bawdy songs about Attis the legions sing in this chapter.

 

Claiming furies- I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for Attis to _actually_ claim new furies after seeing him pretend to do it in canon.


	24. The Battle of Aquitaine

          My city came into view just as the sun began to set on our second day out from Riva. I will not lie and say a tear didn’t slide down my cheek at the sight of it. Aquitaine looked much the same as it had when I left it, save for the Vord horde outside the walls. At the summit of the hill upon which the city was built, the High Lord’s palace stood behind its own set of walls.

          Home.

          I bade the Legions halt as soon as the city came into view. The causeway ran down from the hills, across the plain immediately surrounding the city, to the north gate. The hills would conceal the bulk of our forces while I planned our attack. I ordered the _legionares_ to refrain from cheering loudly at the sight of the city so as not to call Vord attention to us. I dismounted, veiled myself, and took to the air in order to get a full view of the enemy’s position and numbers. I could’ve sent the Knights Aeris or the Windwolves to do this, but I wanted to see it myself. This was my city and I knew it better than anyone.

          It was just as Eolus told me—the Vord had encircled the city completely. Even the higher peaks bordering Aquitaine to the east had Vord crawling about their slopes. I had to resist the urge to pick them off with well-placed lightning. There would be plenty of time for that later. Two of the city’s Great Furies resided in those peaks. They weren’t nearly as fiercely territorial as Garados, which made them rather easier to control. The taller of the two, commonly nicknamed the Falcon’s Eyrie, was home to Aulus, the smaller to Gaia. My family had brought both of them to heel centuries ago, before the first Gaius Primus, in the days when the capital was located at Appia. Both furies were bound to me now, as they had been since I took up the mantle of High Lord. It seemed the time had come to unleash their might on the Vord.

          Leaving the mountains, I circled the city to the south. The Vord were thickest on this side, which was unsurprising given the direction they’d come from. The sickly green glow of the _croach_ was visible under the tight press of their bodies. Trails of it could be seen heading south. I hoped the whole south of my province wasn’t covered in the filth. Fortunately, the southern gate was still holding firm, though I was willing to bet this was the area which had seen the heaviest fighting.

          I turned back north. The Vord were thinner on the western and northern sides of the city, especially the northern side. As I took in all of this, a plan began to form in my mind. I headed back to the hills where the Legions waited. The first thing I did was order a basin of water brought to me. I had to contact Eolus and get the latest updates from him before I could formulate a plan. I took the basin aside so that I might speak to him without my officers crowding around me.

          The watersending was incredibly easy, easier in fact than the last one. The reason was that I was stronger here than in the Calderon Valley, being so very close to the seat of my power. I would be at my very strongest inside my palace. It took perhaps a minute for Eolus’s face to appear in the basin. “We’re here,” I informed him. “I’m with the Legions in the northern pass, along the causeway.”

          Eolus’s face broke into a bright smile. “That’s the best news I’ve had since the Queen was killed and I found out you were alive!”

          “How fares the city?”

          “Well, you can surely see it hasn’t fallen yet. Things are a bit… tense inside. I’ve had the city on rations since we last spoke and every earthcrafter and woodcrafter has been growing crops on any available piece of land.”

          None of that was surprising. “You need only hold out for a little while longer. I’ve just done a bit of reconnaissance and I’m formulating a plan.”

          “What have you got in mind?”

          “The Vord will scatter if we hit them hard enough. A single, focused attack should do it. I’m thinking to send the three main Legions to attack from north, south, and west with the newer Legions as support. But before any battle is joined, I mean to unleash Aulus and Gaia on the Vord.”

          Eolus’s eyebrows rose. “Surely… you can’t mean that! They’re Great Furies, they… they could destroy the whole city!”

          “I’m aware of that. I assure you they are fully under my control and I will direct them against the Vord only. There will not be another Kalare or Alera Imperia here. Don’t forget I witnessed the destruction of the latter with my own eyes,” I reminded him.

          “Oh, of course, but are you sure you can control them?”

          His question wasn’t entirely unwarranted, but I was dismayed that a family member had so little faith in my abilities. “Eolus, you have known me your entire life. Do you really think such a thing beyond me, even here where I am nearly at my strongest?”

          He was quiet for a moment, then gave a small nod. “You’re right. You’ve awed me with your crafting prowess enough times before.” There was a note of hesitancy in his words and I could tell he was still uncomfortable with the idea, but I was sure he’d raise no further protests. “So what would you have me do? Attempt a sortie from one of the gates?”

          “If my plan with the Great Furies works, a sortie may not be necessary. We will just have to see how it goes.”

          “When do you intend to begin the attack?”

          “Momentarily. Get yourself to the wall, if you’re not already there. I will contact you again if I’ve further orders to give.”

          “Good luck, Attis.”

          I smiled. “Today’s the day we rid Aquitaine of the Vord menace; I know it!” With that, I cut the connection and handed the basin to one of my _singulares_ in case I had need of it again. The next step was to inform the Legion captains of my plan. It was decided that the First Aquitaine would march to the southern side while the Second Aquitaine took the north and the Third the west. We divided up the newer Legions between them, the largest numbers joining with the First. As soon as we’d worked out the details, the Legions began marching into position. They took the longer, circuitous route through the hills, along paths familiar only to locals. It was quite possibly unnecessary—without the Queen, I did not think the Vord capable of anything in the way of strategy—but a bit of extra caution wouldn’t go amiss. I remained in my usual position with the First Aquitaine. We took the path which ran behind the two peaks so as to come at the city from the unexpected side.

          “You haven’t said what you’ll be doing,” Vitellus commented once we were nearly in place. “Will you lead the attack from the front?”

          I grinned. “In a manner of speaking, but not the way you’re thinking of. I’m going to fly up to the Great Furies and rouse them. That will be the beginning of the attack. You are not to engage until afterward.”

          He nodded. “And the other captains know this?”

          “Of course. I told them before we split. Ah—we’ve arrived.” The southern gate loomed before us, the Vord massing before it in huge numbers. Defenders moved about atop the wall, unleashing furycrafted attacks on the Vord milling about at the base. “I believe the time has come for me to take my leave of you. Remember, do not engage the Vord until after the Great Furies have done their thing.”

          “Will do.” He saluted as I dismounted, veiled myself, and took to the air. This business would require considerable focus. I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly, calling upon my metalcrafting to aid me. I halted directly above the peak of the Falcon’s Eyrie and unveiled myself. Keeping my gaze locked on the mountain, I unsheathed my sword and held it aloft.

          “Great Aulus and Gaia!” I shouted, “I, Attis of the House of Aquitainus, call upon you for aid!” My family had harnessed their power when the city was first founded. I’d taken control when I became High Lord, which had required me to essentially introduce myself to them. They’d accepted me then, and I was certain they would obey my will now. There was a stirring in both mountains—they heard me. “You can sense the Vord crawling about your slopes. I bid you rid yourselves of them, these enemies who threaten Aquitaine! As High Lord of Aquitaine I order you to kill the Vord who now encircle the city. Rise now and WAKE!”

          My final word was punctuated by a loud rumbling much like an avalanche. Large boulders began to fall from both peaks to crush the Vord milling around the bases. I felt a surge of power then, such as I hadn’t experienced since I made my watersending in Septimus’s Memorium. These Great Furies weren’t my furies, but they were still connected to me through my position as High Lord. A chorus of high-pitched Vord screeches reached my ears. I watched intently as more and more of them were crushed by the Great Furies. Those that weren’t immediately crushed ran for it. They didn’t get far. The Great Furies opened fissures in the earth and the fleeing Vord tumbled into them. When every last Vord was gone from the mountains, they sealed the fissures shut.

          Now was the time to attack. “Return now to your mountains and sleep once again,” I ordered the Great Furies. A low rumbling came from the Falcon’s Eyrie below me. I braced myself, expecting some resistance from Aulus, but the rumbling gradually died away to nothing. I was sure, then, that the Great Fury had returned to his slumber. Gaia did the same a moment later and I was free to turn my attention to the rest of the field.

          The Vord were in disarray. Those who’d been nearest to the fissures were panicking and running about in no particular order. With the Queen dead, it was easy to break their resolve. The defenders on the wall took advantage of this and hit them with a fresh barrage of attacks. I ignited my sword and raised it to the sky. If that wasn’t a signal to attack, I didn’t know what was.

          The sound of Legion trumpets rang out. Each of the Legions, already in battle formation, marched forward to engage the Vord. “For Aquitaine!” I shouted as I flew closer to the battle. The cry was taken up by the Legions, though most of them couldn’t have heard me. It was soon followed by shouts of, “Remember Ceres!” “Remember Alera Imperia!” and “Remember Riva!” Below me, the First Aquitaine attacked the Vord with savage ferocity. The mantis warriors never even had the chance to bring their scythe-arms to bear. I flew closer and aimed a barrage of fireblasts at the Vord nearest the gate. A moment later, little was left of them but blackened pieces. I flew up again to gather enough charges for lightning, then swooped down like a falcon to hit them with a stream of bolts. Within minutes, most of the Vord by the gate lay dead.

          The standards of the First Aquitaine were near to the front of the line—Vitellus wasn’t one to lead from the back. I landed carefully beneath the Legion standard and my _singulares_ , who I’d left with Vitellus, immediately positioned themselves around me. I unsheathed my sword and reignited it. This time I poured a bit of courage into the firecrafting, not that they needed it but a boost for this last push would help end it sooner. It worked—the Legion redoubled its efforts. I put my sword to work then and slew Vord left and right.

          “They’re running!” came a jubliant shout from the front.

          They were.

          Oh Great Furies, they were.

          Vord abandoned their positions en masse, trying to get as far from the Legions as they could. _Legionares_ picked them off as they went. Some unlucky few ran in the direction of the Great Furies. Without any prompting from me, more boulders rolled down to crush them.

          The way to the southern gate was clear.

          A trumpeter signaled for the _legionares_ to move aside. “Make way!” Vitellus shouted. A moment later, a path was opened up for me. I walked forward, flanked by my _singulares_ and Vitellus. The defenders atop the wall began to cheer as I approached. With a great creak, the heavy furycrafted gate opened.

          It is difficult to describe the immense rush of emotion I felt as I stepped through the gate. It was chiefly an intense joy, the strongest I’d felt in quite some time. When I learned of the Queen’s death, I’d been more relieved than jubilant. Even Invidia’s death hadn’t stirred such feelings in me, as I’d been too focused on defeating the Queen at the time. Now, I finally felt like celebrating.

          My city lay before me, unconquered, ready to welcome me home.

          A deafening round of cheers broke out among the defenders and _legionares_ alike as soon as I was through the gate. I broke into a wide smile while a few tears of joy slid down my face. This was my city and these were my people. I was home. That simple fact hammered home the reality that the Vord War was truly over and life would return to normal for me. I was not ashamed to cry tears of joy before so many people. It was such an important moment that the normal considerations hardly mattered. “Aquitaine!” I shouted. “I have returned to you!” The statement was greeted by another round of cheers.

          Once the wave of emotion passed, I turned to Vitellus. “Send a pair of cohorts in to secure the city. I want the rest of the First Aquitaine and the other Legions to clear the area of Vord. I want no Vord in the immediate area surrounding the city. I’ll send groups to hunt them in the hills later.”

          Vitellus saluted. “It will be done, your grace.”

          There was a loud whoosh as Eolus landed beside me. He prided himself on being a very fast and skilled flyer. “Attis!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a tight embrace. It was rather awkward, with both of us in armor. “Welcome home!”

          “I’m so, so glad to be here,” I said, patting him on the back. It was a wonderful thing, seeing a family member again. “As you can see, I wept for joy when I stepped through the gate.”

          “I can’t think of anyone else more welcome here in this moment,” said Eolus. “Tensions have been running high in the city as the siege dragged on. Before the First Lord let you off the leash, I was nearly at the point of contacting him to beg for aid myself. No one seriously considered the option of surrender, but, well…”

          “How is the food situation?” I inquired. “You mentioned that you’ve got earthcrafters and woodcrafters growing crops where they can.”

          “We’re… managing, but many in the city have been forced to make do with short rations.”

          “Take some small comfort that I brought a decent amount of food from Riva. That should help feed the city until we can plant and harvest crops,” I informed him. “What of the other gates? Have the Legions taken them?”

          Eolus nodded. “The northern was the first gate to fall, followed by the western. When I didn’t see you at either of them, I figured you had to be here where the fighting was thickest.”

          “I joined the First Aquitaine at the southern gate once the business with the Great Furies was done. There was no way I was going to stay in the back in this fight, not when my city was at stake.” I lifted my eyes from him and scanned the wall. “Now I suppose I ought to pay a visit to the other gates. If you’ll excuse me…” With that, I took off.

          The western gate was closer, so I headed there first. Flying over the city allowed me to get some idea of the damage that had been done. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Some buildings nearest the gate had taken some damage, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as that done to Riva. Some areas of the wall had been hastily repaired with earthcrafting after taking damage in battle. From what I could tell, the buildings set further back from the wall had taken very little or no damage.

          When I reached the western gate, I watched from above as the entire Third Aquitaine volunteered to drive the Vord back to the hills. The Legion had been wiped out at Alera Imperia. Rather than retire the Legion out of respect for its sacrifice, I chose to reinstate it and found plenty of men eager to join the reformed Third. They’d fought ferociously at every opportunity they’d been given, wanting revenge on the Vord. I watched from my aerial vantage point as the entire Legion, minus a single cohort left to secure the gate, marched out to hunt the Vord.

          I moved on to the northern gate. There, the Second had settled in comfortably. The Vord hadn’t been as numerous on this side of the city, allowing them to take the gate quickly. Damage here was minimal. Of course, all of it would have to be recorded as per Octavian’s orders, but that could wait until tomorrow. What I wanted most now was to retire to the palace, get myself something to eat along with a cup of good wine, and sleep in my own bed for the first time in months.

          The sun had fully set now and the sky had turned the deep blue of twilight. Furylights in a rainbow of colors were visible all over the city. The sight of them made me unexpectedly emotional. They were another sign marking a return to normalcy and there was comfort in that. I flew back to the southern gate, where Eolus and Vitellus were waiting for me. I had Vitellus bring my horse forward, for I meant to ride to the palace instead of fly. The people needed to see that their High Lord had well and truly returned.

          A short while later, I set off for the palace accompanied by Eolus, my _singulares_ , my personal staff, and a handful of guards from the gate. It didn’t take long for word to get out that I’d returned home. People swiftly lined the streets and watched us pass from their windows and doorways. I was a symbol of hope to them. Many cheered loudly, while others wept openly. The joy and relief they felt were so strong they hit me through my shields. The difficulty of these last few months were written on the too-thin faces I saw in the crowd. The sight only stiffened my resolve to make my city and the rest of my province whole again.

          There was no direct path from any of the gates to the palace. Aleran cities are laid out on a grid and this rule generally applied to Aquitaine, but my ancestors decided to make things more difficult for an invading army by failing to provide a direct route to the palace. As a result, the route there zigzagged through the city streets. The hill steadily rose as we grew closer. The wealthiest Citizens lived in the area immediately below the palace. I was sorely tempted to make a small detour past Camilla’s villa, but decided that could wait until tomorrow.

          At last we reached the summit of the hill, the palace walls looming before us. The gate immediately opened and I had to work hard to keep myself from weeping as I stepped inside.

         

 

 

**Notes**

 

Great Furies- If Kalarus could exert enough control over Kalus to get the fury to erupt if he died, I reckon Attis, who’s at the very least as powerful as Kalarus, could exert similar control over the Aquitainian Great Furies.

 

I’d like to take a moment to mention that if you haven’t noticed already, the focus of this fic will be Attis interacting with OCs for a while. The canon characters will definitely be making further appearances, but he’s back home now & not in a rush to leave again any time soon. Just thought I’d mention it in case any of you aren’t interested in that sort of thing.


	25. Homecoming

          The cheers erupted immediately after I was inside the gate. Those few guards who remained on the wall led the cheers, which were promptly picked up by the men beside me and the members of my household as they spilled forth from the massive front doors, servants and family members both. Amid the cheers, I made out joyful cries of “My lord!” and “Attis!”

          “Our High Lord has returned at last!” Eolus declared. “Our city has been freed from the Vord threat!” As a new chorus of cheers broke out, I found myself unable to hold back my tears of joy and relief. In that moment my emotions overwhelmed me and any concerns about weeping openly in front of others vanished. This very moment, the moment of homecoming, was what kept me going in the bleakest moments of the Vord War, the promise of returning home once it was all over. Now that promise had come to pass and I was back at the place I loved best in the world.

          I strode forward to the doors, Eolus following close behind me. As soon as my feet had crossed the threshold, I was greeted warmly by those gathered inside. Teary-eyed family members embraced me, murmuring they’d been afraid they’d never see me again. It was a refreshing change when I came to my elderly aunt Elania. She was not a woman given to sentiment. Fortunately, my own tears had ceased to flow by this time. “You’ve returned to us in one piece,” she began, the faint traces of a smile playing at her lips. “Welcome home, Attis.”

          “Thank you, Aunt. You have no idea how glad I am to be home.”

          Much to my surprise, she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight hug. “We’ve certainly missed you here.” She released me and scanned the group who’d entered the palace with me. “I don’t see Invidia with you. Dare I hope the bitch is dead?”

          I grinned. “I assure you she is thoroughly dead.” Aunt Elania had absolutely despised Invidia, to the extent that she could hardly even pretend to be cordial to her on social occasions. She’d seen the truth of what Invidia was, certainly before my parents had. “And even if she weren’t dead, I divorced her.”

          “A very wise decision, though you should’ve done it years ago if you ask me.”

          I walked further into the entry hall, greeted more family members, and was about to ask for some dinner when a chorus of, “Master! Master!” demanded my attention. I turned to see my three dancing girls standing a few feet away. As soon as my gaze fell upon them, they immediately dropped to their knees. I never demanded they do so as some masters did; I suppose it was something ingrained in them during their training. “Rise,” I ordered them. “There is no need for you to remain on your knees at this time.”

          Each girl gracefully got to her feet. They were dressed in the short, lightweight tunics they typically wore in the summer. The tunics came to mid-thigh, leaving a good deal of leg exposed, and were low enough in front to display an ample amount of bosom. Jeweled collars around their necks glittered in the light of the furylamps. I had the collars specially made for them—delicate gold set with rubies and lined with silk. All three of them were incredibly beautiful and the sight of them stirred my lust. I was tired from the exertions of the day, but not so tired that I couldn’t take one of them to bed. “You are a very welcome sight,” I told them with a smile.

          “As are you, Master,” said Samarra. She was the newest and youngest of my dancing girls, acquired during Kalarus’s rebellion. She was quite the beauty, with the golden brown skin and black hair common to Kalarans. “Shall we dance for you?”

          “I would like that very much. It would be a most enjoyable welcome, and fine entertainment after I dine tonight. Which reminds me,” with reluctance I turned to face Eolus, “I trust there’s still enough food in our stores for a decent meal?”

          It so happened that there was. I took my dinner in the great feasting hall, with Eolus and a few other family members for company. They’d already eaten, but we had much to discuss. The fare consisted of a savory stew of salt meat, served with spiced lentils and sliced flatbread. It wasn’t quite what I was used to eating at home, but it was good, filling, and much better than the rations I’d been eating lately. When the meal was done, a servant brought out a platter of dried figs, along with a small jar of honey. I smiled broadly—honeyed figs were perhaps my favorite food; I’d longed to taste them for months. Fresh figs were preferable to dried, but Eolus informed me that our supplies of fresh fruit were all but exhausted.

          I poured myself another cup of wine—the wine cellar had survived the siege unscathed—and drizzled honey on the figs. My dining companions gradually bade me farewell to turn in for the night. When they were gone and I’d eaten the last of the figs, I sent for my dancing girls. Servants cleared away the extra chairs and moved the table to the side so they’d have room to dance here on the dais. This was a favorite after dinner entertainment for me. Indeed, a return to the normal routine was just what I needed after so much upheaval. I lounged in my favorite chair, wine glass in hand. Behind me, I heard the thunk of another chair being set down. I glanced back to see my lyre player take her seat. The girls entered after her and took their places in front of me. They’d changed out of their short tunics and into their dancing outfits. These consisted of nothing more than filmy silks which hid little. They chose to accent the outfits with items of jewelry I’d given them over the years. Samarra had the least, as she’d not been with me for very long in comparison to the others. They bowed to me and began their dance.

          I watched intently as they swayed in the time with the lyre. All three of them were very skilled dancers and they moved their hips in the most erotic manner possible. I was completely unable to look away. They moved with perfect grace and unison, in such a way that the few silks they wore slid down to reveal more inches of bare skin. My desire flared up as I watched, despite how tired I was. If it were another day I might take all three of them to bed and have them in turns, but I wasn’t quite up to that tonight. No, it would have to be just one. The others would have to wait for another day to have their turn. Now I only had to make the choice. My eyes kept drifting back to Samarra. Ismene and Clio were equally beautiful and skilled, but they’d been with me much longer than Samarra had. I suppose I’d not yet grown tired of her. She looked particularly lovely in those thin silks—they were sheer enough to show a hint of her dark brown nipples.

          The dance came to an end and the girls knelt before me, heads bowed. I confess the sight of them kneeling at my feet only made my desire stronger. “Samarra,” I said, “I would have you join me in bed tonight.”

          “I would be pleased to do so, Master.” Every time they called me Master, I was reminded that I would have to free them soon. Today was not that day, however. A rush of excitement hit me from Samarra, accompanied by brief stabs of disappointment from Ismene and Clio. Their turn would come eventually.

          I finished the last of my wine and rose from my chair. The girls stood as well. I beckoned Samarra to me and together we left the feasting hall and headed to my private chambers. Once again, I felt a rush of emotion as I stepped through the large double doors and into my bedchamber. At another time I might’ve paused to linger in each room, but that would have to wait. My blood was up now.

          The bedchamber was exactly as I’d left it, which was a great comfort. It had been mine since I became High Lord and I’d taken the time to redecorate it according to my personal taste. It wasn’t that my parents had bad taste, but rather I wanted to make the room my own. The walls were a rich shade of scarlet, the same as our banners. Most of them were decorated with only a few embellishments—I preferred to leave the space mostly blank so I might hang paintings. Only two sections of wall featured frescoes and they were both near my bed. They were of an erotic nature and featured couples in the act of lovemaking. These frescoes had survived my redecoration largely because of the subject matter, and also because they were quite well-done. The men and women depicted in them were all beautiful and exactly the sort I liked.

          Several paintings and drawings hung on the other sections of wall. One was a formal portrait of myself and my parents, painted when I was a child. My mother loved that painting and insisted it be hung in her private bedchamber. After her death, I had it moved into mine. There was one other family portrait hanging as well, this one done when I was in my adolescence and just starting at the Academy. This one had hung in the hall of statues with the busts of my ancestors before I moved it here. Aside from those, the highlight was a drawing an artist in Alera Imperia did of Septimus and I. We thought it might be fun to have a sketch made of us together. Both of us are smiling brightly in the sketch, our arms around each other’s shoulders. After his death the drawing became especially precious to me and I had it framed. My eyes drifted to it briefly as I led Samarra to the bed before turning my gaze away.

          My bed was twice as large and much more luxurious than any other I’d slept in these last few months. The sheets were silk, smooth and cool for the summer heat. I dimmed the furylamps a fraction and bade Samarra sit on the bed. I didn’t bother to take my time and undress her slowly; instead I pulled off the wisps of silk she wore and let my eyes rove over her. Her body was soft and shapely, just what I liked, and her skin seemed to take on a golden glow in the amber light of the furylamps. I immediately kissed her on the lips, savoring the taste and feel of them against mine, then migrated down to her neck. Unlike other slaves, Samarra’s neck was entirely free of the scars inflicted by discipline collars, though she told me she’d worn one briefly during her life in Kalare. Only a fool would scar a bed slave’s neck, I’d said in response. It was one of the underappreciated places to kiss on a woman. I took my time now, sucking and biting at the soft skin of her neck and collarbone as she wrapped her arms around me and trailed her fingers down my back. She’d have marks from my love bites tomorrow, for certain. I moved from there to her round, full breasts, taking one nipple into my mouth, then the other. That drew moans from her lips, which only served to fan the flames of my desire. She truly had beautiful nipples, so sensitive and responsive. I lingered over them for quite some time, until my own arousal became nearly unbearable. I paused in my attentions to pull off my clothes, feeling her eyes on me as I pushed her legs further apart and settled myself between them.

          I slid a finger inside her; she was dripping wet. I smiled, removed my finger, and licked it slowly. There was no need for any further delay. I entered her in a single, smooth thrust. Samarra cried out in pleasure and arched her back, pressing her hips against mine. She had the delightful tendency to gyrate her hips like she was dancing when we made love. Neither of the other girls did such a thing, nor did any Aquitainian courtesan or whore I’d ever bedded. I supposed it was a Kalaran thing.

          My hands gripped her hips tightly as I thrust hard into her. A man less secure in his bedroom abilities might’ve been skeptical that her moans and cries of pleasure were genuine, but I was confident enough in my skills to know they were. Besides, I relaxed my shields enough to sense the waves of pleasure emanating from her. I leaned forward to kiss her as I felt the tide of my own climax rising. When it was over, we lay panting side-by-side on the plush pillows. I waited a few minutes to recover, then turned Samarra onto her stomach. I grabbed one of the oblong pillows and situated it beneath her hips. After a good deal more kissing and caressing, I took her from behind.

          “That will do for tonight,” I breathed later. I lay on my back, with Samarra atop me. The feeling of her breasts pressed against my chest was an extremely pleasant sensation.

          “Welcome home, Master,” she purred. “I hope I’ve pleased you.”

          One of my hands tangled itself in her thick black hair. “Very much so. I’ve missed your company.”

          “I’ve missed you too. The others and I were worried about what would happen to us if you died in the war. We know it’s unlikely that we’ll find another master like you.”

          That surprised me a little—I knew they felt strong affection and loyalty toward me as their master, but I had no idea just how deep those feelings went. “Eolus might’ve decided to claim you for himself with me gone. He wouldn’t have mistreated you. Our family does not approve of discipline collars.”

          She squirmed a little, obviously shy about speaking of this. “I know, but he’s not you. Not as handsome, for one thing. And he doesn’t know how we feel about being sold or freed.”

          That I was well-aware of. The conversation I needed to have with them about freedom would not be an easy one; I certainly wasn’t up for discussing it with Samarra tonight. “Well, I am truly home now and you need not trouble yourself with such thoughts,” I assured her, continuing to stroke her hair. She gave a small, contented sigh and soon fell asleep, my words apparently having set her mind at ease. My own was not yet ready to do the same. A great deal had happened today and I had much to think about. As might be expected, the slavery issue was right at the forefront of my mind.

          I would be lying if I pretended Kalare’s reputation for producing bed slaves did not cross my mind more than once during the campaign against Kalarus. I’d even entertained a few daydreams of seducing some of Kalarus’s own bed slaves away from him, or better yet his wife. Cuckholding him would’ve been even more satisfying than cuckholding Gaius had been. What happened instead was I met Samarra. As we advanced further into Kalaran territory, we came across the estates of several Citizens. One of the larger villas had belonged to a lord who fled as I approached with my Legions, leaving most of his household behind. This included a handful of bed slaves, Samarra among them. On my first night staying in the villa, she offered herself to me. As she told me later, she feared she’d end up being passed around between the _legionares_ and thought to ingratiate herself to me. Needless to say it worked. and I claimed her as my own. The others I freed and sent on their way with some money. Ever since then, Samarra had been extremely loyal to me. I would have to break the news to her gently.

          That would have to wait for now. When I woke the following morning, I was quite thoroughly rested. There’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed after a day of travel and battle. Samarra, still in her position atop me, stirred to wakefulness. “Good morning, Master,” she greeted me, trying to stifle a yawn. “I trust you slept well?”

          “I did, thank you. And what about you?”

          “Very well.” She sat up and stretched, giving me an excellent view of her breasts. For a moment I considered bedding her once more before rising from bed, but decided against it. It was already late and I had no intention of missing breakfast.

          Samarra moved off of me and donned the filmy silks she’d worn last night. I sat up, stretched, and began to dress. We walked together to the dining hall. Several people could be seen sitting at the tables, finishing their breakfasts. I sat down in my usual chair at the table on the dais; Samarra took her place at one of the other tables. Eolus was seated on my left, finishing his meal. I’d scarcely taken my seat when a servant brought me a bowl of hot porridge. It was blander and not as rich as what I was used to eating at home, which was to be expected in these circumstances.

          “So,” I began, “what passed during the siege? How did you hold off the Vord for so long?”

          “Well, part of the credit has to go to you for preparing us as well as you did,” he replied. “If you hadn’t there’s no way we could’ve held out this long. Everyone here was determined not to let the Vord have the city. There were plenty of ordinary folk who offered whatever services they could to us.”

          I nodded. “I’d expect nothing less.”

          “Every single member of the guard and civic Legion were resolved to defend the city or die trying,” Eolus continued. “They all fought fiercely.”

          “What of the breaches you mentioned before? I’m guessing they were at the southern gate.”

          “They were,” he answered. “The first time we were able to drive them back with heavy furycraft and reseal the gate. The second time… well, that would’ve been the end if it weren’t for Aquitainar Livius’s heroism.”

          I blinked slowly as I processed that piece of information. “Aquitainar Livius?”

          “An officer in the civic Legion. Very powerful crafter too. He charged in and hit the Vord hard with a barrage of crafting while we closed the gates. You should’ve seen him, Attis. He must’ve killed hundreds and hundreds of Vord before they finally overwhelmed him.” Eolus looked up from his bowl and studied me for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought. “His crafting was so strong I suspect he must’ve been the bastard of someone in the family.”

          My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you suggesting this Aquitainar Livius was a bastard child of mine?”

          “It’s definitely possible,” he admitted. “He did look a bit like you and his crafting prowess was what I’d expect from any offspring of yours.”

          I turned away from him, numb with surprise. I hadn’t been expecting to hear that a potential bastard of mine died sacrificing himself to save the city. That was not something I was equipped to deal with. Of course there was no way of knowing now if Aquitainar Livius had been mine, but it was a possibility that couldn’t be discounted. I filed this away to think upon later. For now, there was much work to be done.

 

 

**Notes**

 

Dancing girls- Attis owning dancing girls is of course canon. I’ve tried to reconcile this w/ his public anti-slavery stance (see: Invidia’s proposal to the Dianic League). I don’t think someone who was BFFs with the openly anti-slavery Septimus would mistreat his slaves, however corrupted he became.


	26. Camilla

          The first thing I did after finishing breakfast was contact Octavian. Rather than have a basin brought to the table, I elected to make the watersending from the viewing pool deep within the citadel. This was my own viewing pool, which I used to view events in Aquitaine and beyond. I was even known to use it to spy on my targets for seduction, though that I did only rarely. The pool was located deep in the ground beneath the palace and was accessed by a pair of staircases leading from the antechamber. Very few people ever ventured down there, mainly me and the servants who cleaned it, with Eolus only doing so since I left him in charge. It wasn’t because the chamber was unpleasant—quite the contrary. My ancestors had, over the years, put considerable effort into making the palace beautiful and the viewing chamber was no exception.

          The furylamps immediately flared to life when I entered the chamber, casting crimson light about the room. The floor was covered with intricate mosaics made of glittering glass. Many were fairly small and depicted scenes from the founding of Aquitaine. The largest consisted of a detailed map of my province. Every High City in Alera had such a map, made of stone from different corners of the land it ruled. This was a way of linking furies from those places to the city. My map had been designed with beauty in mind as much as practicality. I did not bother with admiring it now and instead went straight for the pool. It was perfectly round, several feet in diameter, and fed by a spring from deep within the rock. I placed my hands on the marble rim and looked down into the water.

          It only took a moment to make the connection—here I was at the seat of my power. I waited a few minutes before Octavian materialized in the pool. “Lord Aquitaine,” he greeted me, “I take it you have news for me?”

          “I do, sire. I can safely report that the siege of Aquitaine has been broken and the city has been secured. I’ve had my Legions clear the immediate area surrounding the city and intend to send them into the hills to pursue the Vord.”

          Octavian nodded. “Well done. How did you take the city?”

          I treated him to a description of the battle. When I reached the part where I woke the Great Furies, the corners of Octavian’s lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m pleased to hear you were able to take your city with minimal casualties.”

          “So am I. How goes the campaign in Phrygia?”

          “The city’s been taken. We were able to break the siege yesterday morning with some assistance from the defenders,” he informed me.

          “Taking back our country, one city at a time,” I remarked. “When do you plan on leaving for Antillus?”

          “I’m not certain yet. Right now the priority is ensuring Phrygia is set to rights. Just as you suggested, I’m doing my best to endear myself to the city.”

          This time it was my turn to nod. “I hope it will prove effective.”

          The conversation moved on to the next steps I intended to take. Octavian assured me that I had his confidence to take whatever military actions needed to clear the Vord from the rest of my province. In return, I promised to begin compiling reports of the damages, to be sent to him at a later date. When our conversation was done, I left the pool and returned to the palace proper. There was a great deal to be done, much as I wished I could take some time to relax.

          The rest of the day was taken up by the kind of tedious business it would be very dull to record in any amount of detail. I sent the Windwolves out to scout the hills and land to the south. I needed to have some idea of where the concentration of Vord was greatest before sending the Legions out to dispatch them. For now, they remained encamped on the plains surrounding the city. The next order of business was to summon all the earthcrafters who’d been growing crops in the city and send them out to begin readying the fields for planting. I was confident that our combined food supplies could last until the first harvest was in. Once that was seen to, I gave Eolus the task of compiling the damage reports. He’d witnessed much of the siege firsthand, after all. I had too many other matters requiring my attention to see to all of that personally.

          When the last bit of business was finished, I retired to my private bath for the first thorough soak I’d had since coming home—I’d only had time for a quick bath previously. I took my time rubbing myself down with oil and giving my hair a good scrub. Dinner would be served soon, but I didn’t intend to eat at home. There was one person I hadn’t yet visited and I intended to do so tonight. The family wouldn’t like it, but this was hardly the first time I’d taken dinner with a lover rather than with them. Camilla would be waiting for me. I’d already sent a messenger to inform her that I desired her company tonight. He’d returned with a message that she’d eagerly await my arrival.

          I took my time choosing the clothing I’d wear tonight. What I’d donned this morning simply wouldn’t do. Some would argue it was Camilla’s job to look her best for me and not the other way around, but I considered it a courtesy to put in the effort to look my best for favorite lovers and those I seduced. For this encounter I selected a tunic of deep blue silk and a pair of black leather sandals. It was warm enough to warrant doing without pants and boots. To this I added my gold armbands. I became aware of my own good looks during my adolescence and soon learned how to use them to my advantage. I took a couple minutes to look myself over, then left for Camilla’s villa.

          All the wealthiest Citizens of Aquitaine had their villas nearest the palace. Everyone always seemed to be in eternal competition to see who had the loveliest villa with the most beautiful architecture and gardens. My family generally stayed above such petty rivalries, as the palace was indisputably grander than any of these villas. Nonetheless, they were still an impressive sight, with their arches and columns and delicate fountains. This quarter of the city showed no signs of damage whatsoever, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. We were far from the gates here.

          Camilla’s villa was located at the edge of the quarter, where those who’d recently made their fortunes might move. As it so happened, that was an accurate description of Camilla. Working as one of the most famous courtesans in Aquitaine for nearly twenty years had allowed her to amass a small fortune. She’d used it to purchase a luxurious villa and moved out of the smaller house she’d lived in previously. Her mother, who’d managed her career since the beginning, lived there with her. She’d been a courtesan herself in her youth.

          I halted in front of the villa. It wasn’t as expansive as many of the others, but it was just as beautiful. A splendid garden spread out in front of it, arrayed according to the traditional Aquitainian designs. But there were few flowers to be seen this time. Where flowers had once been, vegetables now grew in neat beds. The branches of the trees hung heavy with fruit. The only part of the garden that was unchanged was the large fountain in the center. It was some fanciful representation of a water fury, manifested as a beautiful woman. It was lit from below by blue furylamps. I did not pause to admire it but instead continued into the villa.

          Camilla’s mother was there to meet me as soon as I stepped inside. “Your grace,” she greeted me, “it is a pleasure to see you alive and well.”

          “I might say the same of you, Sabina,” I replied. The stress of the war seemed to have taken its toll on her—she still retained traces of her former beauty, but her face had acquired more lines since I’d last seen her.

          “Camilla is waiting for you in the receiving room,” Sabina informed me. I followed her into a spacious and well-appointed room. The golden glow of the furylamps cast the frescoes on the walls in warm light. My attention was on them for only a moment before being pulled away completely.

          The woman reclining on a couch by the far wall had the appearance of one scarcely older than twenty, a testament to her substantial watercrafting skill. One hand rested on the ample curve of her hip while the other lay on the cushion. A necklace of emeralds glittered from her throat—I’d given her that necklace years ago. Camilla wore a gown of deep blue trimmed in gold. The straps had slid off her shoulders, leaving some of her creamy white bosom exposed. Her hair, a rich chestnut brown, fell down past her shoulders in a loose cascade. At the sight of me, her deep brown eyes brightened with joy and her plump red lips curved into a smile.

          My heart beat faster as I drank in the sight of her. This was the woman I’d pined for, had longed for over these last long months. I’d reluctantly admitted to myself that there was a good chance I’d never see her again, but some part of me refused to give up hope. Now she was here before me and I had no intention of leaving her again anytime soon. I glanced down at my blue tunic, then back at her. “It seems you and I are attuned to each other in more ways than one.”

          She rose from her couch and sauntered over to me, hips swaying with every step. “Oh, Attis,” she breathed. I pulled her into my arms, one hand tangling itself in her hair. She rested her head on my shoulder. I soon felt tears soaking into my tunic. “I’ve missed you so much.”

          “As I’ve missed you,” I murmured. Her thick hair smelled of jasmine, a scent which never failed to stir my desire.

          “I feared every day that you’d die in battle and I’d never see you again,” she said between muffled sobs.

          “I very nearly did, but you need not worry yourself anymore. I am here to stay.” I stroked her hair, then pulled away and gently lifted her chin so our eyes met. “No more tears. We ought to celebrate today.” With my thumb, I brushed the tears away from her eyes.

          “You’re right—we should. It’s just that seeing you again after these months is like a dream come true,” she confessed.

          “It’s the same for me, Camilla. I’ve thought of you often these last months. The prospect of returning home again and seeing you was one of the things that kept me going when everything seemed bleakest. But all of that is in the past. Now that I’ve returned, I fully intend to make good on what I promised you the last time we were together.” I found myself unable to keep the passion out of my voice. Camilla was a strong watercrafter—no doubt she could sense it even through my shields.

          “You mean your promise to make me your official consort?”

          “Yes.” She had essentially been my concubine for years, but I’d been unable to move her into the palace or name her such in an official capacity with Invidia around. She didn’t care about me patronizing Camilla, however moving her into the palace was another matter entirely. Camilla was a highly-educated and cultured woman, exactly the sort to pose a threat. Besides, we had to maintain some semblance of our happy marriage charade. “I would have you move into the palace with me so we might live as we did when Invidia disappeared.”

          She gave me a small smile. “Nothing would make me happier. I take it your divorce went through, then?”

          “It did, but it makes no matter. She’s dead. Countess Amara of Calderon killed her right before my eyes.”

          Camilla’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Did she really?”

          “She did. I’m well and truly free of Invidia now.”

          She took my hand in hers. “I can’t say I’m upset to hear of her demise. Shall we celebrate with some dinner?”

          I smiled. “Lead the way.”

          The dining room was just as beautifully decorated as the rest of the villa. Frescoes of people enjoying lavish banquets lined the walls. The meal laid out for us on the table was, however, considerably less lavish. It was expected, given the circumstances. Camilla could always be counted on to set a tasty table—she appreciated a good meal as much as I did. We took our seats and began to eat. The meal consisted of roast pigeons in an herb sauce, accompanied by carrots and raisins cooked in oil and peaches in a spiced honey sauce. All of it was quite delicious, very much up to her usual standards. Nevertheless, Camilla felt the need to apologize for it.

          “I know this is rather less impressive than what we typically eat when you visit me here,” she began. “Certain foods are hard to find in the city at the moment.”

          I chuckled, thinking of the supply reports Eolus gave me. “Oh believe me, I know all about it.”

          “You may notice that there are considerably less pigeons in the city than previously. People have been netting them in order to supplement their rations.” At my questioning look, she added, “These are from our own dovecote.”

          It was then that I noticed how much she’d eaten. Camilla always had a good appetite, but I couldn’t recall the last time I saw her eat like this. Not a single scrap of food could be seen on her plate. Had she not been getting enough to eat during the siege? No, that couldn’t be it, given the vegetables and fruit growing in the garden. She did not appear to have lost any weight. I hoped she wasn’t ill. Out of concern, I slid the bowl of carrots over to her. Camilla gave me a very warm smile and immediately set to finishing them.

          After a sweet course of pears poached in red wine, Camilla led me to her bedchamber. The walls were painted a pale pink and decorated with frescoes of couples making love. What better decoration for a courtesan’s bedchamber? The frescoes were lovely and quite tastefully done, unlike the gaudy sort commonly seen in brothels. Scarlet furylamps cast a rosy glow over the gold silk sheets on the bed. We’d scarcely closed the door behind us before we began kissing passionately. Her lips were quite soft, and beautifully-shaped, the sort you couldn’t help but imagine on other parts of your body. They tasted faintly of wine. As we deepened the kiss my fingers deftly undid the pins holding her gown in place. From there they moved to her girdle and made short work of that as well. I stepped back from her so that I could slide her dress off. Before I could admire her nude body, her hands were at my waist, undoing my belt. I gave her an assist by pulling off my tunic and tossing it to lie beside her gown.

          Camilla’s lovely brown eyes widened as they took in my naked chest. “Those scars,” she breathed. “I know your body as well as my own. You didn’t have those when we last lay together.”

          “They’re souvenirs of my duel with the Vord Queen,” I answered.

          “You fought her? One on one?”

          “Yes. It is a story best-left for another time, my dear.” I pulled her into my arms again and kissed her hard as my hands slid up and down her back. I hooked a finger into her underwear and began to slide it down. She did the same to mine.

          We moved to the bed. Now I let my eyes rove over her lush, beautiful body, lingering over her large, plump breasts, the soft curve of her belly, her full hips. She was, in my opinion, absolute perfection. I felt my cock stir with desire at the sight. I moved away from her lips to kiss her neck, then her breasts. I lingered over them hungrily, then took a rosy pink nipple into my mouth. My tongue traced circles around both of them, teasing them to hardness. Camilla moaned loudly at my attentions; the sound only made me more aroused than I already was.

          Once I’d kissed my way down to the space between her legs, Camilla pushed me off of her. I lay on my back, head resting on the plush pillows, as she positioned herself over me. “Let me have a turn with you,” she purred, then punctuated her words by kissing my neck. Just as I’d done with her, she trailed kisses down the length of my chest, only pausing when she reached my scars. “Such a shame that your beauty has been marred by these,” she said, tracing the longest one with a finger.

          “They’ll fade in time,” I replied. “For now, they serve as proof I crossed swords with the Vord Queen and lived.”

          “Was she truly as formidable as you told me she was?”

          “Worse. I’ll tell you all about it later. I came here tonight to fuck you senseless,” I growled into her ear as I pushed her onto her back.

          “Then let’s get on with it,” she said in a seductive purr. “I’ve ached and yearned for you since you left.” She wrapped her shapely legs around my waist, pulling me closer to her. With a single smooth motion, I slid inside her. Camilla cried out in pleasure and tightened her legs around me. Her nails scratched at my back, but I hardly noticed them. I’d nearly forgotten just how _good_ she felt.

          “Ah Camilla,” I moaned into her ear as I thrust harder. One of my hands slid between us to pleasure her with a finger while the other fondled her perfect breasts. Her moans came louder now and I could tell she was nearly at her peak. My own wasn’t far off…

          She clenched herself tight around me and I was undone. “Camilla,” I moaned as I climaxed.

          Her own came right at the same time as mine. “Attis!” she cried, arching her back as her pleasure overtook her. There’s nothing quite like hearing your lover cry out your name in bed. I rolled off her and lay on my back. Both of us were panting. It had been well-worth the wait, but this was only the beginning—I was far from sated. When we’d both recovered, I wrapped my arms around her and pressed my lips to hers. I hadn’t quite realized how much I’d missed the feeling of her body against mine. No one had softer skin than Camilla, who maintained it with a regimen of milk baths and special oils. It wasn’t long before I was hard again.

          Some time passed before we were finally spent and sated. There is definitely something to be said for having a lover whose stamina in the bedroom matches yours. We lay entwined together, Camilla’s head resting beneath my chin. I was completely content, with mind untroubled by the challenges I had to face. It didn’t take long for me to drift off.

          “Attis?” Camilla’s voice jolted me awake.

          “What is it?”

          “There’s something I need to tell you. I thought to say something at dinner but… I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Now seems the better time,” she answered.

          Her response piqued my curiosity. “What is it you wish to tell me?”

          I felt her take a deep breath before continuing. “Attis, I’m pregnant.”

          This revelation shocked me so much I sat bolt-upright, dislodging Camilla from her position. "But... how… your watercrafting…” I stammered, unable to form an articulate response.

          “It was intentional. I deliberately refrained from using watercrafting to prevent a pregnancy during a time when I knew I was fertile,” she replied. “It was the last time you were here, Attis.”

          The earth suddenly seemed to disappear and I was falling, with nothing below to break my fall. “That is… you mean _… it’s my child?_ ” was all I managed to get out.

          “Yes,” she replied. “Don’t be so surprised. You’ve spent enough in me to float a warship. If I hadn’t had the watercrafting necessary to prevent pregnancy, you and I could’ve peopled a steadholt with the children I’d have borne you.”

          “It’s very likely. Just… tell me one thing, Camilla. Why did you do it? You knew the Vord were coming and there was a good chance I’d die in battle. Why bring new life into such a world?”

          The mirth vanished from her immediately. “When you were here last, I was entirely consumed with fear that I’d never see you again. I… couldn’t bear the thought of losing you forever. I wanted some part of you to keep with me as a reminder. So I didn’t use watercrafting at all during your last visit.”

          I lay back down on the pillows. My head was spinning from these revelations. Me, a father. Camilla and I were having a child. Any speculation about bastards I might’ve fathered paled in comparison to this. Well, I supposed fatherhood was bound to happen anyway. I had to remarry and get myself some heirs. At least this child would be with a woman I cared for deeply.

          Fatherhood.

          Somehow the prospect managed to be even scarier than the Vord Queen.

          My eyes moved to the curve of her belly. It was hardly noticeable—indeed, I never would’ve guessed it had she not told me. Our last time together had been four months ago, not enough time yet for her pregnancy to become clearly visible. “Why didn’t you speak of this to me then? You were afraid I’d speak against it?”

          She nodded. “I never thought you the sort of man who cared much for children, since you never had any with _her_. And I knew you’d never approve of having a child in a time of such great danger.”

          “You know me too well,” I sighed. “This couldn’t have happened with me still shackled to Invidia. She’d likely have killed any child of ours out of spite. Now, we need not worry. This changes nothing—I still mean to make you my official consort. You will move into the palace with me and when our child is born, I will acknowledge it as my own and raise it like I would any legitimate child.”

          At that, she moved forward and gave me a brief kiss. “Thank you, Attis.” I pulled her into my arms once again and it wasn’t long before both of us fell asleep.


	27. The Children

          I woke fully-rested and refreshed the next morning. My yearning for Camilla had now been sated. But perhaps even more importantly, it marked another return to normalcy for me. This is what I typically did whenever I was home, and now my homecoming was truly complete. A few minutes passed before my mind cleared away the fog of sleep and I recalled what Camilla told me last night: she was pregnant with my child. I still felt shock from that revelation. This was something so far outside my experience that I had trouble grappling with it. Invidia and I had decided that we wouldn’t have children once we reached our compromise. It was one of the few things we ever fully agreed on. There was mutual disgust at the idea of having children with each other. The thought of what the mingling of our blood would produce terrified me. Oh, our children would’ve been incredibly powerful crafters, that was certain, but there are more important things than furycrafting.

          There was no need to worry about what Camilla and I would produce.

          She stirred, still in my arms. “Sleep well, dear Camilla?” I inquired softly.

          “Very well, thank you.” She lifted her head a little to look down at me. “And you? I hope my news didn’t keep you up all night.”

          “You needn’t worry—it did not. I am however trying to grapple with the reality that I’ll be a father in a few months. I never thought you and I would have children. The possibility wasn’t something that ever crossed my mind.”

          Camilla raised a hand to stroke my cheek; her palm was soft. “I’m sorry for my deception. I hope this hasn’t forever damaged your trust in me. Do you understand why I chose as I did?”

          I took a moment to ponder the question. I couldn’t recall sensing any deceit in her when we spoke last night. It was the fear of losing me which had motivated her, the desire to have some part of me with her. It was an emotional decision made without any practical considerations, to be sure, but I couldn’t find it in me to blame her for it. What she did, she did out of the depth of her love for me. How could I ignore that? “It’s all right,” I assured her. “My trust in you is not gone forever. Just… be sure to talk to me next time!”

          She kissed me. “I will.”

          After another round of lovemaking, we finally rose from bed and had breakfast. The fare was simple, consisting of fresh bread with olive oil and fruit just picked from the trees. “Come back with me to the palace,” I said. “There’s no reason you can’t move in right away.”

          She raised an eyebrow. “So soon? Are the chambers I used last time ready for me?”

          “They have been untouched since you left,” I assured her. “Pack the essentials and you can get the rest later.”

          Some time passed before we left the villa for the palace, traveling in Camilla’s carriage with several trunks of her most important possessions. We’d done this before, when Invidia disappeared. I’d immediately invited Camilla to move into the palace, something I’d longed to do for years previously. Living openly as my concubine meant that she stopped working as a courtesan. Much of the city was so distraught at this development they were practically mourning her in public. Never let it be said we do not love our courtesans. The family hadn’t objected to Camilla’s presence—a man keeping a concubine openly was hardly an unusual thing.

          “So how did you pass your time while I was gone?” I asked as we passed rows of luxurious villas. “Sieges don’t exactly have a reputation for being exciting.”

          “I did resume working as a courtesan, if that’s what you want to know. There weren’t many patrons left in the city, but those who remained were distraught enough about the war to seek companionship.” She gave me a questioning look. “Surely you didn’t expect me to stay totally faithful to you?”

          I laughed lightly. “Of course not! You do need to support yourself. And besides, I’m hardly the person to chide anyone on fidelity to a lover. If you do want to take any lovers from here on, I have no problem with that.”

          “That is good to know,” she replied with a smile.

          When we arrived at the palace, I had Camilla’s trunks brought to her chambers. Said chambers had belonged to Invidia previously and some of her possessions still remained there—I hadn’t disposed of every single one yet. Before the chambers were Invidia’s, they’d been my mother’s. I could recall vividly how I’d felt faintly ill watching the woman I hated move into the rooms that were previously occupied by my mother. Some of her jewels had been given to Invidia as well, since they traditionally belonged to the High Lady of Aquitaine. I was tempted to give them to Camilla now, but I supposed I needed to save them for my new wife.

          I had to leave her as she settled into her new chambers in order to attend to my duties. The area immediately around the city, including the hills, had now been cleared of Vord. This ensured we’d be able to grow crops without any fear of Vord attacks. The earthcrafters and woodcrafters were already at work. Now we had to get the city’s commerce going again. To this end I dispatched groups of _legionares_ to spread the news that the siege was broken and Aquitaine liberated. Only the south was excluded—I already had the Windwolves doing reconnaissance on the Vord there. A campaign would likely be necessary to clear the region of Vord and _croach_ , but not yet. The Legions needed some rest and I needed to get my city fully on its feet again. These matters occupied most of my time. Fortunately, Camilla settled in without any difficulty whatsoever. The family accepted her readily, as they’d grown accustomed to seeing her living in the palace with me before. Aside from Aunt Elania’s raised eyebrow, no one made any comment.

          There was one other personal matter which had been weighing upon my mind. It wasn’t marriage, though I knew I’d have to turn my attention to it soon. I was too caught up with Camilla to think on finding myself a wife at the moment. What I did turn my attention to had been growing in my mind since the conversations I had with Raucus during the war. I meant to find my bastards. There was a strong possibility that the heroic and deceased Aquitainar Livius was mine and I’d never had the opportunity to know him. My impending fatherhood was pulling my thoughts increasingly in this direction. Did I have any children already? As I told Raucus when we discussed the subject, it was very likely I did. I’ve bedded numerous women over the years and not all of them could watercraft or afford silphium. I’d never given this any significant amount of thought previously, as Invidia would never have tolerated me acknowledging any bastards. But she was dead now, and I was free to acknowledge all of the bastards of mine I could find. And that was precisely what I meant to do.

          I went about this by having signs hung up at various places around the city, inviting all who think they might be my child to present themselves at the palace for my inspection. Perhaps not the most efficient way to go about it, but I judged it to be the easiest approach rather than attempting to contact all my former lovers. There was no way of knowing for sure, of course, but my watercrafting would come in handy. Besides that, I had a good memory for past lovers. I was quite curious to see how many would turn up.

          The answer turned out to be some thirty people, mothers and children both. I sat in my official seat in the formal audience chamber, a very spacious room lined with graceful marble pillars. My guards organized them into a line so they might present themselves to me one at a time. Most of the children were accompanied by their mothers, but not all. Numerous adolescents could be seen as well. I couldn’t help but wonder, looking out at the gathered crowd, if every single child was mine. Surely that wouldn’t prove true! I might’ve bedded a lot of women, but a good portion of their number had the means and inclination to prevent pregnancy.

          One by one, they stepped up to the dais and stood before my throne. Some of the women I’d never seen before, so I dismissed them outright. Several insisted the children they had with them were mine, but they were unable to name a single occasion when we lay together. The difficulty came when women I did recognize as former lovers came forward with their children. These required much more extensive questioning. Many of the children looked nothing whatever like me, but that alone wasn’t proof they weren’t mine. I questioned them extensively about their furycrafting abilities. It was true that children born of a High Lord and a commoner might not inherit the High Lord’s furycrafting power, this being the reason for the arranged marriages we suffered through. However, the House of Aquitainus tended to throw true when it came to furycrafting—every known bastard of ours had inherited our crafting abilities. I felt fairly confident that any bastard of mine would’ve inherited my crafting. Eolus stood at my right shoulder, occasionally providing commentary. He wasn’t as promiscuous as me, but he’d been known to take lovers here and there. It was possible some of the children here were in fact _his_.

          I’d been at this for a few hours when a tall girl with my dark golden hair stepped forward to address me. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect and spoke. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, your grace. My name is Thyra and I’m certain you’re my father.”

          I raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you so certain?”

          She took a step forward, dark eyes fixed on me. “My mother told me.”

          “Who is your mother? Is she here with you today?”

          “Pomona, formerly the wife of Senator Timeus,” she answered. “She died last year, before the war started.”

          Pomona. I remembered her—she’d been a beautiful young woman married to an elderly Senator. Her disinterest with her husband was plain for anyone to see and it wasn’t long before we ended up in bed together. The affair had lasted several months before she broke it off suddenly, telling me her husband knew about our affair. That put an end to our association. “I remember her. It saddens me to hear she is no longer alive.” I took a moment to study this girl who claimed to be my daughter. She did resemble me, that was undeniable. She had my coloring, in addition to my height. Her fingers were even long and slender, just like mine. I was growing convinced that her confident words were the truth.

          “My mother told me the truth of my parentage when I was a young girl, after her husband discovered I wasn’t his and sent both of us away to his country estate,” Thyra elaborated. I detected some faint anger in her when speaking of her treatment.

          “I do recall hearing that Pomona’s husband had divorced her. You were the cause of that?” I asked, tapping a finger against my cheek.

          She glanced down at her feet briefly before looking back up at me. “Yes.” This time I picked up shame from her. Though she’d carried herself with pride and spoken to me with confidence, it was obvious the situation with her mother and would-be stepfather still smarted. Discretion and care would be needed here. I elected to change the subject.

          “You make a very convincing argument,” I began, “but there is one more matter we must discuss. How is your furycrafting, Thyra? Are you a strong crafter?”

          She nodded. “It’s always been easy for me, even from a young age. I’ve five furies, all but metal; I’ve never had the chance to pick up a sword. Mother only had two furies.” She looked away for a moment, hesitant, then continued. “I was hoping to start at the Academy last year, but then the war happened and that idea was off the table.”

          “You should be glad you weren’t there, else you’d likely have perished beneath a blanket of ash.” I rose from my chair, stepped off the dais, and walked over to her. “You’ve made a very strong case for yourself and I am convinced you are what you say you are.” I gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “Welcome to the House of Aquitainus, Thyra. There is a place for you here, if you desire it. I wish to find my illegitimate children so I might acknowledge them and raise them as if they were legitimate.”

          “I… well…” she stammered as a barrage of confused emotions hit me. They were strong enough that my shields only blunted them.

          “Would you like a few minutes to think it over?”

          Gratitude emanated from her. “Yes, thank you,” then, as an afterthought, “Father.” I motioned for a pair of guards to lead her into one of the smaller rooms off the hall.

          After I dismissed several more people, only three remained: a girl in worn clothing accompanied by a woman in clothing just as worn as hers and a boy. I judged him to be no more than ten years old, which made his apparent lack of any adult chaperone rather strange. I beckoned the boy forward. “You next. What is your name?”

          “Phaidros,” he replied. After a moment, he added, “Your grace.”

          He had proper manners at least. I studied him carefully as he walked forward to stand just before the dais. He had my hair, that was obvious. It was wavy and curly, with several locks falling over his forehead. There was something of me in his face as well—he had my strong nose and narrow face. “How did you come to believe you are my son?” I asked genially.

          “Everyone said I am,” he answered with a shrug. “Silvia, Madam Elisa, the other ladies, everyone.”

          I didn’t need to ask to know he’d grown up in a brothel. “Who is your mother?” I inquired.

          “Her name was Gisela. She died from drinking too much wine and aphrodin,” he said frankly. I sensed no sorrow or grief in him, which told me that he hadn’t been all that close to his mother. The names Gisela, Silvia, and Madam Elisa were all familiar to me, all of them being residents of the Garden of Delights, perhaps the finest brothel in the city. I vaguely remembered Gisela, as I’d only visited that brothel occasionally. I hadn’t needed to, not when I had courtesans, dancing girls, and other lovers among the Citizenry to warm my bed.

          “I remember Gisela, and I can tell from how you speak of her that you have little affection for your mother.”

          Phaidros gave a slight nod and looked down at his feet. “Silvia took care of me, my lord, or at least she did until she left.”

          Something stirred in my memory at the mention of Silvia. I’d bedded her a few times, but not recently. “What evidence did she offer supporting the notion that you are my son?”

          “She said I looked like you and my mother never had any other member of the High Lord’s family but you.”

          I rested my head on my chin. “What of your furycrafting, child?”

          The question seemed to perk him up a bit and he smiled. “It’s strong! I have a wind fury and an earth fury and a water fury and a fire fury!”

          I returned his smile. “Very impressive for one so young. It seems you are indeed my son.” Phaidros brightened at my statement and stood straighter. “Do you have anyone who looks after you now?”

          Phaidros shook his head. “Well, sometimes Madam Elisa does, but… no, I don’t.”

          “Would you like to live here with me?”

          “Yes!” he exclaimed, then stepped up to my chair and wrapped his arms around me. The action startled me for a moment, then I pulled him into my arms and patted him gently on the back.

          “Welcome, my son.”

          After Phaidros left with a guard to gather his few possessions, I motioned for the woman with the small girl to come forward. The strains of the siege were written all over them. Both were too thin and the woman’s face was lined and careworn. Even so, I recognized her. Eolus did as well. As soon as they reached the dais, he leaned over and murmured in my ear, “That’s the one I told you about earlier. She came here during the siege, with the girl. She said the girl was yours and asked for food and money.”

          “What did you do?”

          “I believed her. She was one of Invidia’s maids a few years ago, remember?”

          “I remember. Mira.” The years had obviously taken a great toll on her, but traces of her beauty remained, even with her shapely figure gone. She’d become my lover while working as a maid to Invidia. Invidia’d found out about it and dismissed Mira from her service. I’d had no idea she was pregnant.

          Mira took a small step forward. “My lord,” she began, laying a hand on the girl’s thin shoulder, “this is our daughter. Her name is Melitta.”

          “Melitta,” I repeated. “Please come forward.”

          The girl glanced at her mother, who gave her an encouraging smile, then took a step forward. Her eyes remained fixed on my feet. “Don’t be afraid to look at me,” I said gently. “A child should not be afraid to look upon her father.” Melitta raised her eyes hesitantly. “That’s better. I mean to acknowledge you as my own and have you live here with me in the palace.”

          A surge of conflicting emotions hit me from her—excitement at the idea of living in the palace coupled with fear. “But… what about Mama?” she asked, glancing again at Mira.

          “Your mother is welcome here too,” I answered. “I can see you are very close to her.”

          “We accept your offer, your grace,” said Mira. “All of this is more than I’d ever dared hope for.”

          I smiled. “And I am certainly glad to have you here. I only wish I’d known of our daughter sooner. I’d have sent you money, as doing much more would’ve been dangerous for her.”

          ‘I would’ve told you. I’d planned to, but the High Lady found out and said it’d be my life if I said anything to you.” Pain hit me from her. Though this had happened years ago, it clearly still smarted. “That was when she dismissed me.”

          “Well, Invidia is truly dead now and no longer a hindrance. I would have you and Melitta dine with me tonight. Melitta has a brother and a sister whom she ought to meet.”

          Mira smiled. “We’d be happy to accept your offer.”

 

 

 

**Notes**

Attis basically admits in canon that he might have bastards he doesn’t know about. I decided to take that idea & run with it. He is named after a real life fertility god, after all.


	28. Settling In

          We took our supper in my private dining room. I thought it best for the first night, in order to give my children a chance to adjust to their new surroundings before being thrown in with the rest of the family. The children would have to meet them eventually, of course, but not today. It was entirely likely some of my relatives would disapprove of my claiming my bastards and bringing them to live in the palace, but they would have to accept it because I was not going to change my mind.

          Thyra had, after thinking it over, chosen to move into the palace with the others. She was running out of money, she said, and soon wouldn’t be able to maintain the small villa she’d inherited from her mother. Pomona had been disgraced when her husband divorced her and her family had only seen fit to provide her with a modest income. Once she died, that allowance had dried up. I settled her in the wing of the palace where my personal chambers were. Phaidros and Melitta would be living there as well. Living so close together would help foster family togetherness. I hoped the three of them, along with the child currently in Camilla’s womb, would become close. I know that is how things are supposed to be between siblings, though I never had any of my own.

          “I never imagined I would live here,” said Thyra. “I asked my mother once if I’d ever be able to meet you. She said it was very unlikely.”

          “I wish I could’ve met you sooner, Thyra,” I replied earnestly. “Circumstances being what they were made it impossible.”

          “Mother told me there was no chance you’d ever claim me as your own. The former High Lady wouldn’t have tolerated any acknowledged bastards of yours.” She gave a small smile. “I’m glad she turned out to be wrong.”

          “She wasn’t wrong. Invidia always harbored intense resentment and hatred for me, and though we had no children of our own I do not doubt she’d have killed any bastards of mine out of spite,” I explained.

          Camilla was seated on my right, watching my children intently. I had taken the time to explain what I intended to do to her and she’d been agreeable, but now my watercrafting detected a distinct sense of unease coming from her. I suppose this was due to her being faced with the reality of my children. I resolved to speak to her on the matter later. “Who are you?” Phaidros asked her. “Are you my new mother?” I was not surprised to hear such a question from him. It was likely the boy yearned for a mother figure, given that his own mother had neglected him.

          She took a moment to consider her answer. “Well, I suppose in a way I am. I’m your father’s concubine.”

          For a brief moment I expected Phaidros to ask what a concubine was, but then I recalled that the boy had grown up in a brothel. I glanced at Camilla, expecting a mention of her pregnancy, but she said nothing. I supposed breaking the news to them later would be best. All three of them were grappling with the tremendous changes their lives had taken today. Best not add another thing for them to deal with just yet.

          Phaidros was smiling at Camilla. “That’s good. I suppose I’ll be all right since I’ve got a father now, but I’d like to have a mother too.”

          That brought a few chuckles from the rest of the table. Melitta, who’d hardly said a word since the meal began, inched closer to her mother. It was strange having Mira and Camilla at the same table. Mira had been a pretty young maid attending Invidia when I met her, and I’ve never been able to resist a pretty woman. Needless to say, the seduction was successful. It hadn’t been a particularly difficult seduction, as she’d both curious and eager. I generally preferred more experienced lovers, but she was pretty enough that I made an exception for her. Over the course of the affair I ended up acting as a sort of tutor for her in the art of love and she became increasingly infatuated with me. Of course, this caused an ugly altercation between Invidia and I once she found out about it. “Bad enough that you refuse to use the slightest bit of discretion in your affairs; now you make whores of my maids!” she’d shouted. Most of my infidelity attracted little comment from her, but this matter struck too close to home. She expected there to be a certain amount of loyalty and propriety among her maids, not to mention it always galled her that as a man, I could take lovers with impunity while she was forced to be discrete about it. In that I have to admit her feelings weren’t entirely unwarranted. The end result was that Invidia dismissed Mira from her service and was far more careful in hiring maids from then on. She deliberately chose women who wouldn’t stir my lust, mainly thin women with no figures to speak of and very elderly ladies. Now that I knew Mira had been pregnant when she was dismissed, I hated Invidia even more. By the look of her and Melitta, they’d been living in poverty. I meant what I’d said to her about sending money if I’d known. “I shall have to summon my tailor to make new clothes for you,” I said to them. “What kind of father would I be if I let my daughter go about in rags?”

          Relief poured off Mira; Melitta gave me a small smile. I hoped I’d be able to draw the quiet girl out of her shell in time. It was hard to believe that a child of mine could be such a shy thing. I am many things, but shy isn’t one of them. Perhaps the circumstances of her life had made her that way. Neither of them offered any details and I didn’t press for any. I did, however, notice Melitta eyeing the meal spread out on the table with something like awe. Once she recovered from her initial shock, she began piling her plate with food. “Easy with that,” I said with a smile. “You’ll make yourself sick if you eat too much. It is best to eat slowly if you are unused to such an abundance food.”

          Melitta looked down at her plate. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much food at a meal before.”

          That statement was another stab. _Nothing to be done about it,_ I reminded myself. _It’s in the past._ All I could do now was provide for my daughter and be the best father I could be. She was still young—hopefully it wasn’t too late. I feared that would be the case with Thyra. She was very nearly of age and no longer needed a parent to look after her. On the other hand, she seemed eager to get to know me. I felt rather overwhelmed for the first time since welcoming the children into my home. Did my parents feel like this after I was born? I suppose it is a common feeling. Nonetheless, I found myself wishing my parents were here so I might consult them on the matter.

          Well, I’d have to figure it out on my own.

          I chose to turn my attention to Thyra now. “You said you have five furies,” I began. “How knowledgeable are you about crafting? Have you had much training?”

          “I’ve had some. My mother taught me everything she knew about windcrafting and woodcrafting,” she replied. “For the others, she paid for me to have some lessons.”

          “So how much do you know of the others? Just the basics or did you learn any advanced techniques?” I inquired.

          “I learned the basics, but nothing much past that,” Thyra replied. “That’s a big part of why I wanted to go to the Academy, so I could learn everything I didn’t already know.”

          “Ah, I see. In that case I shall have to see to it that you receive proper instruction. It won’t do for you to remain half-trained. I’d be happy to train you myself, when I’m not too occupied with my duties as High Lord.” My gaze moved off Thyra and onto Phaidros and Melitta. “That goes for you two as well. Have either of you had any formal instruction in furycrafting before?”

          They shook their heads. “Some of the ladies taught me a few things. I figured out other things on my own,” said Phaidros. “I learned to fly a little when I climbed onto the roof and jumped off.”

          My eyebrows rose. “You can fly?” It was an impressive thing to master with no tutelage.

          “Well… sort of. I can hover and float in the air.”

          “That’s very good, Phaidros. Don’t be discouraged that you didn’t manage to do it on your first try. You are still a young boy; you have plenty of time to practice.” I gave him an encouraging smile. “Would you like to hear the story of my first attempt at flying?”

          “Yes!”

          “I was younger than you are now. After seeing my parents and other family members fly many times, I was eager to try it myself. I jumped off the balcony in my chambers.” I couldn’t help but smile in fondness at the memory. “No doubt I looked completely ridiculous and not at all graceful as I flailed about. I managed to call my wind fury just a few feet before I hit the ground. Needless to say, my parents were furious when they found out.” Phaidros was listening intently and as I looked at him I could see an idea forming in his dark eyes. Best to nip that in the bud before he went jumping off anything else. He was, perhaps, too much like me for his own good. I’d been a precocious child, overly-bright and restless. My childhood tutors frequently had a difficult time with me for that reason. I would have to watch Phaidros closely for this behavior. “Don’t you get any ideas of trying that yourself, at least not when there’s no teacher around to supervise you. I’d rather not have you break your neck.”

          Phaidros looked down at his plate. “I promise I won’t try anything like that again.”

          “And don’t think you can outwit me on this,” I added. “I’ll make sure the guards along the wall will be on alert for any precocious children with grand ideas.” I turned my attention to Melitta now. “What about you? What do you know of furycrafting?”

          She blinked a few times, then turned her gaze to her plate. “I don’t know much. Mama taught me some firecrafting, but nothing else.”

          “Do you have any furies besides fire?”

          She nodded. “I have wind, earth, and water too.”

          “She hasn’t had any teaching for those,” Mira cut in. “I’ve only a fire fury. I’ve taught her all I know, but I couldn’t afford to pay for her to have lessons in the others. She’s figured out a few things on her own, though.”

          “I trust you haven’t jumped off of any rooftops?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

          Melitta gave a shy smile. “No.”

          “I’m glad to hear it. One of my children doing that is quite enough. All of this information is very useful. I would like very much to teach you myself when I can, but it will likely be necessary to find furycrafting tutors for you.” I would need to find academic tutors for them as well, but there was no need to discuss that matter with them at the moment. They needed a proper education and I doubted very much Phaidros and Melitta had received much in the way of that. Thyra on the other hand likely had and she seemed to have an interest in learning. I resolved to show her the library when the opportunity presented itself. Tomorrow I would have to take them to the Hall of Ancestors. If they were to be part of the House of Aquitainus, they needed to learn about their heritage.

          When the meal was done, I took some time to think over what had transpired. Phaidros seemed most comfortable here, Melitta the least. I suppose the latter was due to the drastic change in her situation. Poverty to palace requires an adjustment period. The three of them hadn’t conversed with each other much, but I didn’t consider that cause for concern. They were adjusting to everything and there would be plenty of time for them to get to know each other in the future. I think it is important for siblings to be close, even if they have different mothers. I’d wanted a sibling as a young boy, but I never got one. Instead I had Septimus.

          The children appeared to settle into their new chambers easily. I hoped the close proximity of their living quarters would facilitate the growth of familial feelings. Their chambers were right next to each other and just down the corridor from my own. Mira I gave a room beside those belonging to my steward and other high-ranked members of the household. She was very pleased with her new lodgings.

          Later, Camilla and I spent the evening together in my solar. Both of us reclined on couches, our upper bodies propped up by plush pillows. The walls of this room were decorated with frescoes of scantily-clad men and women making merry in woodland glens and meadows. In stark contrast to the red of my bedchamber, the primary color of these frescoes was green, contrasting nicely with the golden glow of the furylamps.

          “You surprise me, Attis,” Camilla began, “I never thought you would choose to search for your bastards and decide to acknowledge them. You never said anything about this before, not once in the more than fifteen years I’ve known you.”

          “Well, you could say the war made me think more about certain things. Antillus Raucus and I discussed the subject of bastards more than once,” I answered.

          Recognition dawned on her face. “Ah. I do recall you mentioned that you were once good friends with him.”

          I nodded. “We were able to rekindle our friendship after spending so much time together during the war.”

          Camilla smiled. “I can tell that makes you happy. I confess I thought the news of my pregnancy spurred you to seek out your bastards.” Her hand came to rest on her belly.

          “It was the final thing that motivated me to do it,” I confessed. “The possibility that I’d fathered a bastard or two had occurred to me before, but I never gave it much thought.”

          “Because of Invidia?”

          “Precisely. But beside your pregnancy and my conversations with Raucus, Eolus mentioned the heroic deeds of a certain Aquitainar Livius who sacrificed himself to drive the Vord from the city.”

          I saw recognition in Camilla’s eyes. “I heard of him while serving as a healer to the wounded. I never had the opportunity to meet him.”

          “You worked as a healer?” That I hadn’t known. Her watercrafting was certainly strong enough that she’d be a powerful Knight Aqua if she were in the Legions.

          “Yes. I wanted to do my part to serve our city in its time of need.”

          I reached over and laid a hand on her arm. “Now that I know that, I love you more. How many men can say their concubine, a famous courtesan, took part in the war while pregnant?”

          “Probably just you. How fortunate you are,” she replied, answering my grin with one of her own.

          “Indeed. One of the things this war did was make me appreciate everything so much more.” I stroked her wrist gently. “Like you.”

          “I’ve never felt unappreciated by you before, but is always good to know one is appreciated.” My hand was rough and calloused against her silky smooth wrist. In the early years of our relationship I’d felt slightly awkward touching such smooth skin with my rough hands, but she’d assured me she actually liked a man with rough hands. They’re the hands of a warrior, she’d said.

          “I’ve a confession to make,” she said, pulling my attention away from the softness of her skin.

          “What is that?” I inquired.

          “To be perfectly honest, I’m of two minds about your decision regarding your children,” she admitted.

          “And why is that?”

          “Because… I fear this will jeopardize our child’s position.”

          That thought hadn’t occurred to me in the slightest. “Well, I’m hardly an expert as I do not have any siblings, but I was unaware a parent could only love and care for one child.”

          She swatted at my hand playfully. “You know what I mean! Even with everything between us, a part of me still feels you will have little interest in our child now that you have others.”

          “You need not worry,” I said, meeting her eyes. “All I said you after you gave me the news still stands. This changes none of that. I promise you that, Camilla.”

          She studied me for another moment, then gave a nod. “I believe you—I can feel the sincerely in you. For my part, I promise I will regard your children as if they were my own and care for them just the same.”

          My eyes widened—I hadn’t expected her to say something like that. I expected her to treat my children with kindness, but not go so far as to regard them as her own. “Thank you,” I managed to say.

          She gave me a small smile. “They are your children, Attis. How could I hate or mistreat them?”

          “It’s a relief to know they will not suffer at the hands of a wicked stepmother,” I quipped.

          “Not at all.” With that, she leaned forward and kissed me. We did not speak much after that.

 

**Notes**

I apologize for taking so long to get this chap out. I’ve actually had it written for a while, but life in the form of grad school and moving to my 1st ever apartment happened. I’m hoping to get back to a regular updating schedule now that my life is less crazy.


	29. Adjustments

          At the time of the Vord War, I’d ruled as High Lord of Aquitaine for not quite fifteen years. Over that time I’ve grown quite used to a High Lord’s normal duties. They’d increased as of late with the need to get my city and province back to normal, but I was reasonably confident I could manage all of it. That, of course, was without taking into account the fact that I was now a father.

          Seeing to the upbringing of three children was no easy task, particularly when one of them was significantly older than the other two. They would need separate tutors, that was certain. The day after they moved in, I took some time to question Thyra about her education. As it so happened, she had a thorough grounding in history and had read many of the essential classics. Much to my dismay, this did not include any significant study of the Romanic Arts. “We’ll have to remedy that,” I told her. “All things Romanic are more relevant now than ever. The First Lord is very interested in them—he even managed to re-create some of their war machines and use them to great effect against the Vord.”

          Thyra’s face brightened with excitement. “Did he really do that?”

          “I saw it with my own eyes. Are you interested in the Romanic Arts, Thyra?”

          She nodded enthusiastically. “Very much so. My mother and my old tutor both thought it was a useless area of study so I never studied them extensively, but I always wanted to learn more.”

          I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You must get that from me—I’ve had a lifelong fascination with the Romanic Arts.” In that moment I resolved to show her my collection of Romanic texts. Our family library was quite extensive, one of the largest in Alera outside the library of the Academy and I’d seen fit to add numerous volumes I’d acquired over the years. I do enjoy a bit of reading to relax in my spare time. Indeed, the library at my manor house in Alera Imperia was one of the few rooms there that I spent any significant amount of time in. Unfortunately, several of the books held in that library were the only copies I had and they’d perished along with the rest of the city. I’d have to have new copies made.

          There was also the matter of furycrafting. Finding tutors for the children would not be easy, considering how many powerful crafters had perished in the war. Those who lived in Aquitaine had returned to their homes after I took the city. I wondered if it would be terribly difficult to find someone with the skills necessary who was willing to teach three children with vastly different skill levels. I couldn’t imagine such a thing was easy. Perhaps it would be easier to look for furycrafting tutors within the household. Most of the household hadn’t really met my children yet, but there was the possibility I might  be able to find someone willing to take on the task.

          But before any tutors could be found, there were other, more pressing matters. Both Phaidros and Melitta were in need of new clothing, as was Mira. First thing after breakfast, I sent for my own personal tailor and seamstress. Camilla sent for her own seamstress as well without any prompting from me. It seemed she’d taken it upon herself to see Mira garbed in better clothing. She had no particular status other than being the mother of my child, but that didn’t mean I was going to let her go about in rags.

          Phaidros was much better off for clothing than Melitta. That was unsurprising, as the Garden of Delights is the most expensive brothel in the city and can afford to clothe even the by-blows of its residents in more than rags. He had a handful of tunics and two pairs of pants, which was a good start. All of them were in reasonably good condition, though some spots bore signs of mending. That being said, I’d no doubt he’d outgrow them quickly. If he’d inherited my height, he would surely grow taller at an alarming speed.

          Melitta was much worse off. She had all of two dresses, one of which was a few inches short. Both were ragged and stained in a few places. Mira assured me that she’d done her best to keep them clean, but there was only so much she could do. I ordered several dresses for Melitta, most in cotton or linen, along with one formal dress in silk. I reckoned that would be a good start for now. The girl was quite eager to have new clothes. I’d have felt the same, had I been in her position.

          Later that day, after I’d finished my other duties, I took the three of them to the Hall of Ancestors. It was time they began learning about the House of Aquitainus if they were to be a part of this family. Thyra, predictably, was eager to learn everything she could about our family. Phaidros seemed interested enough, though I think it was less interesting to him than furycrafting. Melitta was, as usual, quiet.

          The Hall of Ancestors was a long corridor located just past the stairs leading to the viewing pool. Pillars of black marble lined the hall and the floor glittered with mosaics in a myriad of colors. Busts lined both sides, nearly all the way from the far end where the oldest were to the entrance where we stood. “You are part of the House of Aquitainus now,” I said as I ushered them inside. “You ought to know something about your new family.”

          I detected a degree of awe from all three of them once we were inside. Melitta’s was the strongest, as was to be expected. After tearing her eyes away from the mosaic floor, she turned her attention to the nearest bust. Her eyes widened as she recognized the face. “It’s you!” she exclaimed.

          I smiled. “It is indeed. I had the bust made a few years ago. What do you think? Is it a good likeness?”

          Melitta glanced down at her feet, retreating back into her shyness. “It looks a lot like you, but I like the real you better.”

          I laughed and patted her on the back. “Your honesty is very refreshing.” Truth be told, I rather liked that bust. It was an excellent likeness of me, which was only fitting since I’d commissioned the finest sculptor in Aquitaine to do it. Aquitaine is known for producing particularly fine sculpture, to the extent that our sculptors were in great demand throughout Alera.

          We moved on to the next bust. They clustered around it, curious. “Aquitainus Marius,” Thyra read from the inscription at the base. Her eyes moved over to me. “Is this your father?”

          I nodded. “That would be your grandfather.” My father’s face stared back at me with an expression rather sterner than he commonly had in life. It was what I’d nicknamed his High Lord face when I was a child. Even so, the sculptor had managed to capture something of the warmth in his eyes.

          They studied the bust in silence for a few more moments, then Melitta spoke. “He looks like you.”

          “Yes, he does.” I’d inherited from him the classic looks of the House of Aquitainus—blond hair, high cheekbones, a narrow face. We tended to throw true in that regard as well as furycrafting. My dark eyes I had from my mother.

          “What about your mother?” Melitta asked, as if she’d read my mind. “Is there a statue of her?”

          “No.” The Hall of Ancestors was only for High Lords. Only a few select non-High Lords could be seen here, all of them particularly important or distinguished members of my family. This was not generally extended to spouses. But as I gazed upon my father’s bust, I found myself wishing there was one of her beside him. “There’s no bust of my mother, but there are portraits of her. I can show them to you, if you like.”

          “I’d like that,” said Melitta. “What was her name?”

          “Aquitainus Lucretia.” I would’ve been pleased to speak more about my parents to them—they were their grandparents, after all—but there was more to be seen here. “We are currently standing in the Hall of Ancestors, where there are busts of every High Lord of Aquitaine, going back to the very first one. Some say the Ancient Romans showed great veneration, even worship, to their ancestors; I suppose this is some last vestige of that. You ought to know where you come from.” All three of them were watching me with rapt attention. That was encouraging—I’d feared my little family history lesson would bore them. I certainly didn’t intend to lecture them on every High Lord of Aquitaine. There would be time enough for that in their history lessons.

          I led them down the hall, pointing out particularly interesting or significant High Lords as we went. The few female High Lords, or rather High Ladies, captured the attention of Thyra in particular. Sons had preference over daughters in the Aleran system of inheritance, so those women who’d ruled in their own right had done so in the absence of male heirs. As I made note of Thyra’s interest in them, it occurred to me that perhaps it was time for a change in those laws as well. I’d never given the matter much thought before.

          Finally, we reached the far end of the hall. The wall was painted the same red as the others and was entirely bare, save for a single battered gladius hanging on the walls. “This gladius,” I began, “is older than this entire city. It predates even Alera itself.” It was entirely rusted and corroded, so much so that it was hard to tell it had been a gladius. “As you can see it is not made of furycrafted steel. If it was, it would still be in good condition.”

          They stared at it with rapt attention. I doubted they’d seen anything so old before. Phaidros in particular seemed fascinated by it. He might not’ve had any metalcrafting as of yet, but it was clear the boy had an interest in swordplay. He was a few years past the age when boys traditionally begin their earliest training in swordplay—I’d started when I was six—but even those who start late can become great swordsmen. I’d have to add sword lessons to his other lessons. Perhaps the girls would be interested as well.

          “So this gladius dates from the Romanic period?” Thyra asked.

          “It does. The fact that it is not furycrafted proves it. There are some who believe the ancient Romans had furycrafting. Do not believe it, Thyra—there is plenty of evidence proving they did not.”

          Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Truly?”

          “Truly. I will show you some of my books on the subject.” I glanced at Phaidros and Melitta, who were looking at us with blank expressions. “You’ll learn about all of this in due time.” All of this was enough to take in at once, especially for Melitta, so I ended our tour of the Hall of Ancestors after that. It was best not to overwhelm the young ones with so much at once. They needed time to adjust.

          I’d just returned to my personal study to look over the reports sent by the Windwolves when there was a knock on the door. “Enter.” The door opened and Mira took a tentative step inside. “Welcome, Mira. You wish to speak with me?”

          “Yes. There’s something I wish to share with you, my lord,” she answered, taking a small step forward.

          “What is it?”

          “It’s about Melitta,” she said. “She left her room and slept in my bedchamber last night.”

          “Impressive that she found her way there. The girl must have a good memory and sense of direction,” I remarked.

          “She does,” Mira replied with a nod. “You see, Melitta isn’t used to having her own bed apart from me. We shared a sleeping pallet, before.”

          “Ah. She is uncomfortable being away from her mother. Doubtless the bed felt strange to her as well.”

          “It was strange to both of us. Living like this will take some getting used to,” she stated. “Melitta had a bellyache last night as well.”

          “I’m not surprised to hear that—I did warn her about eating too much. I suppose it was difficult for her to resist. Rich food will make you sick if you are unused to it. Not that our food is particularly rich at the moment, but I’m sure it’s more than what you’ve been eating recently,” I pointed out. “What of you, Mira? Were you sick as well?”

          “A bit, but not as much as Melitta.”

          I took a step closer and laid a hand on her shoulder. This entire conversation reminded me of the hardships she and Melitta must’ve endured. The last few generations of my family had taken steps to reduce poverty in the city. These had proven successful—Aquitaine had been the wealthiest city in Alera aside from the capital and even the lowliest resident experienced some of the benefits of that wealth. For one, it allowed us to begin certain programs to benefit the poor. New, better-constructed housing was erected in the least-affluent sections of the city. A new public bathhouse was built as well, which was free to anyone who wished to use it. The new housing was also connected to the city’s water system, something new to those areas of the city. But perhaps most importantly of all, it enabled my grandfather to set up the free grain dole. This allowed the poor to claim a free sack of grain and vial of oil each week. This had proved to be a vital lifeline for the city’s poorest residents.

          “I wish I could fully express my sorrow that you and Melitta lived in poverty all these years,” I said softly. “I hope living here now will go some distance toward making up for it.”

          She looked at me for a moment with wide eyes, deciding what to say. “I’m sure it will,” she managed to reply.

          “Were you dependent on the grain dole?” I asked softly.

          “Yes.” She turned away from me and looked down at the floor mosaic. “They stopped it about a month before the war ended.”

          I nodded. The strategist in me knew it was the soldiers who needed food the most during a siege, but it was hard to think of those considerations now, knowing my daughter had suffered as a result. “Well, in time I’m sure both of you will grow accustomed to the food and hopefully gain a bit of weight. As for the bedchamber, Melitta can sleep wherever she likes and I will not take offense. I’m sure she will grow used to her own bed as well in time.”

          “Thank you,” she whispered. “I wanted to explain to you about Melitta before you found out some other way. I was afraid you might take offense at it.”

          “Your worries were for naught,” I assured her with a small smile. “I take no offense at all. On the contrary—I am quite happy to have Melitta here. I only wish I could’ve done it sooner.”

          Now thoroughly reassured, Mira took her leave of me. Once the door closed behind her, I turned my attention to the stack of papers on my desk. The first few were the reports from the Windwolves. Aldrick described their operations in detail, how they’d taken out every small group of Vord they encountered. They’d completed the necessary rounds of reconnaissance and the situation was just as I expected: the Vord were concentrated in the south, near the Rhodesian border. Some were still besieging settlements, but Aldrick informed me that the Windwolves had been able to liberate some of these. The Feverthorn Jungle remained untouched at least as far as they could tell. Aldrick thought one Legion would be sufficient to drive the Vord out of my province for good. I certainly hoped that would be the case.

          I set Aldrick’s reports aside to be answered later. Underneath them were several letters. I couldn’t think of who would actually send me a letter rather than contact me via watersending, so I figured these weren’t from any close friends. I opened the first letter and began to read. _My lord, I have heard that your wife perished in the war and you are in need of a new one. I am writing to offer you my daughter, who would make a suitable bride…_ I set the letter down, blinking several times. I’d made no official announcement regarding my intentions to remarry, but it seemed the simple fact of Invidia’s death was enough to give every mother among the Citizenry hopes that her daughter might become the next High Lady of Aquitaine. The next few letters were much the same, some being women offering themselves as suitable wives rather than mothers offering their daughters. They were all very tiresome to read, focusing almost entirely on bloodlines and furycrafting ability. I put very little stock in that—my first marriage had been made with both things in mind and it had been a disaster. I felt confident that I could ignore them with impunity, given Octavian’s words to me on the marriage laws. Besides, furycrafting would not be given so much prominence in the new Alera he meant to build.

          I put the letters aside. Marriage was not something I felt like contemplating right now. It would not be easy, finding a wife who’d tolerate not only Camilla and my general infidelity, but my illegitimate children as well. Perhaps I’d have to settle for a silly girl who could be easily-pacified by gifts of jewelry. That thought wasn’t exactly an appealing one, though I did have Camilla for companionship anyway. Marriage truly was, as I’d told Isana, an insane line of work.

         

**Notes**

 

I’m back! I’m sorry it’s been over a year since I updated this fic. Grad school has taken up much of my time & fandom activities essentially fell by the wayside. Right now I’m feeling energized & ready to work on this fic again, so I will make an effort to update more regularly. Thanks for sticking with me!

 

The idea for the Hall of Ancestors described in this chap came from the Roman practice of displaying death masks or busts of their ancestors in their homes.


	30. Discussions

        The following day, I dispatched the Third Aquitaine to deal with the Vord remaining in my province. They were still extremely eager to kill as many Vord as possible. The other Legions, by contrast, seemed content to remain where they were. The Third would be accompanied by two of the auxiliary Legions, those which were composed of men from the south. I also sent the Windwolves’ messenger back with new orders, informing them that the Legions would soon be joining them. I did not consider it necessary to go in person. If my presence was required, they knew to contact me with a watersending.

          This left me free to continue to focus on restoring my city. Once the fields were ready for planting, I had the earthcrafters working on the necessary repairs to the wall. Woodcrafters were already at work planting crops in the fields. I was entirely confident the city would once again be as it had been before the war. Since I’d returned and lifted the siege, a number of people had left. They’d been refugees, mostly from the south, who fled the advance of the Vord to seek shelter behind Aquitaine’s walls. I’d taken to having lists of the liberated towns and steadholts posted in the city regularly. This way the refugees might be informed if their homes were safe to return to. I confess I was eager to see them go, though I never would’ve done anything like kick them out. Their departure lessened the strain on the city’s resources.

          While all of this went on, I was free to devote the necessary time to finding suitable tutors for the children. This issue had been complicated slightly by the revelation that Melitta could not read or write. As Mira could do neither, she’d been unable to teach her. This meant that basic literacy would have to come before anything else save furycrafting. Most scholars believe it is more difficult to learn these things the older you are, just as it is more difficult to learn a language as an adult than as a child. I’d likely have the opportunity to put that to the test, as it seemed I’d have to learn Marat if they were to settle in my province. The only languages I currently knew were Aleran, naturally, and the ancient Romanic tongue, which I’d been forced to learn as a child. It was not necessary for Melitta to learn that, but illiteracy could not be tolerated.

          Phaidros was somewhat better off in this area. He could read on a basic level and knew all his letters, but he confessed he’d never had much cause to read before. Brothels are hardly known for their large repositories of books, at least not books appropriate for a young boy to read. He was not yet at the age where erotic texts and lovemaking manuals would interest him. Well, he would soon learn the joy of reading if I had anything to say about it.

          As for Thyra, I didn’t have to do anything to encourage her to read. Her face lit up as soon as I showed her the library. “Oh,” she gasped as she took in the cavernous room with its shelves upon shelves of books. It had taken my ancestors centuries to accumulate this collection and I was justly proud of it. The room was large, with a high vaulted ceiling. Most of the shelves contained books, but some scrolls could be seen here and there. These were the oldest items in the collection, as scrolls had been fully supplanted by books. Some of them were growing fragile and would need to be replaced with more durable books soon. Numerous tables, desks, chairs, and couches could be found throughout the library. Thyra’s eyes were wide as she tried to take in all of it.

          “You are welcome to read any text in the collection anytime you like,” I assured her.

          “Truly?” I nodded. “It’s incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it in my life!” she exclaimed.

          “I’m proud to say it is known as one of the greatest libraries in Alera,” I replied. “Not as extensive as the library at the Academy, but impressive nonetheless.”

          Thyra’s face fell slightly. “That must’ve been something to see. I wish I’d had the chance to go to the Academy and see it.”

          I laid a hand on her shoulder. “I regret that you lost the opportunity to attend the Academy. My years there were the best of my life.” I smiled fondly at the memories, but elected not to elaborate further. There would be a time to tell them about my relationship with Septimus. Now was not that time. “You need not abandon your hopes of attending the Academy—I believe the First Lord intends to reopen it once he’s settled on a permanent capital.”

          Thyra cocked her head skeptically. “Do you really think so?”

          “I wouldn’t mention it to you if I didn’t. In the meantime, all of this is available to you.”

          An expression of pure delight returned to her face. “Thank you, Father!” Then, to my surprise, she wrapped her arms around me. It was the first time she’d done so. The gesture took me aback for the moment before I responded by returning her embrace. We remained that way for perhaps a minute before she pulled away and promptly went off to peruse the nearest shelf. I took this as my cue to depart and headed back to my study.

          There was a stack of papers waiting on my desk. Such was part of being a High Lord—having to deal with endless rounds of paperwork. My father had been sure to impress upon me the importance of handling paperwork in a prompt fashion and not pushing it aside to be done later. It was something I tried to make a point of doing, despite my dislike of doing paperwork. This time, I was given a momentary reprieve when I sensed a familiar presence in the small fountain pool across from my desk. Raucus’s craggy face was staring up at me from the pool.

          “Raucus!” I exclaimed. “I can’t say I was expecting to hear from you so soon. How goes things in Antillus?”

          “Great!” His happiness hit me hard even through the watersending. “We took the city yesterday.”

          “Was it difficult?”

          “Not at all. The defenders were still standing strong and the Icemen proved willing to give us a bit of an assist.”

          “No doubt that pleased the First Lord. It is in keeping with the new Alera he intends to build. Speaking of which, how stands the wall issue?” I inquired.

          He tensed. “I still don’t like it, but there’s no swaying him on the matter. If I accepted him as First Lord, I have to accept this.”

          “I’m sure the people of the shield cities will not take such a line. Do they know about it?”

          “With the Icemen assisting us at Antillus, it was hard to keep that under wraps,” Raucus replied. “My Legions were… _unhappy_ , to say the least.”

          “How did you handle them?”

          “Talked to them at Octavian’s request. I managed to get them to accept it. That was something, considering I don’t like it myself.”

          I threw back my head and laughed. “Our Rhetoric Maestro would’ve been proud of you.”

          “That’d be the first time,” he answered with a guffaw.

          “Ah yes, I do recall it was never a particularly strong subject of yours.” It was true. Raucus had his strengths, and rhetorical skill was not among them. His ineptitude in this subject had provided me with plenty of material for mockery in the time before we became friends. This behavior had initially been a source of shame for me after that happened, but our relationship eventually progressed to the point where we could joke about it.

          “Never cared much for that class. Came in handy this time, though.”

          “Indeed. Have you had much time to settle in? How goes matters with your family?”

          He sighed heavily before answering. “It’s about the same as it was when you left Riva. Max is still sticking by the First Lord’s side.”

          “Can you really say you and I would’ve been any different with Septimus?” I asked, a grin playing at the corners of my mouth.

          “No. You’ve got me there,” he conceded, though I could tell he was still disappointed.

          “And what about Crassus?” I asked, softening my tone. “How is he doing?”

          Raucus’s lips tightened. “There’s no change in him since Riva. Dorotea’s still tending to him constantly, but his condition hasn’t changed.”

          “I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied. “I’d hoped he might show some improvement. Well, there’s always the possibility that he just needs more time.”

          “I hope you’re right,” said Raucus in a tone which indicated he had no inclination to discuss the subject any further.

          “Speaking of children,” I continued, “I have something to share with you.”

          “What is it?”

          “I recently discovered that I have three bastards of my own. There was possibly another, but I learned he died in the war.”

          Raucus let out a hearty laugh. “Do you really?” He didn’t give me an opportunity to answer. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. How’d you find out?”

          “I searched for them. The conversations you and I had on the subject got me thinking. And I suppose living through the end of the world has a way of making one think about these things,” I told him.

          “So what are you doing? Giving them money? Pardon me, Attis, but you’ve never seemed to me the sort of man interested in fathering.”

          I grinned. “Allow me to surprise you. I acknowledged all three of them and they’re living here with me in the palace. I mean to raise them, Raucus, raise them as if they were legitimate.”

          Raucus nodded with a look of regret in his eyes. “I wish you the best of luck with it. At least you won’t have a jealous wife determined to murder them.”

          “I’ve had enough of jealous wives for a lifetime, thanks.” That got a laugh out of him. “I do intend to marry again, but this time it’ll be my choice.”

          “You, get married again?” he questioned. “I’d have thought you’d take advantage of Octavian reforming the marriage laws to avoid it altogether.”

          “An appealing suggestion, but I’m afraid it’s unavoidable. I still need a legitimate heir.”

          Raucus was silent for a moment, pondering my statement. “You know, you could always make one of your bastards your heir. Octavian wouldn’t have any problem with that, for one.”

          I filed that piece of information away to think upon later. “I confess I hadn’t considered that—they haven’t been here long. Would you believe I’ve already gotten some marriage proposals?”

          He grinned. “I believe it.”

          After that, the conversation moved away from family matters to military affairs, as I wasn’t about to ask Raucus for parenting advice. He told me that the Placidas had been sent with their Legions to liberate their city now that Antillus was secure. Octavian would be following with support once Antillus was fully set to rights. Raucus himself would remain behind to see to his city. When all was said and done, we ended up talking for quite a while. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed once I bade farewell to Raucus and turned my attention to the stack of papers on my desk.

          That evening, we dined together again. I didn’t think it was yet time to introduce my children to the rest of the family, though they had encountered a few of them simply by living in the palace. Besides, I didn’t necessarily dine with the entire family every single day. This time, they seemed more comfortable than I’d yet seen them. Thyra in particular looked quite content.

          After dinner, Camilla and I passed another evening together in my solar, dining on dried dates and nuts. “What do you make of these?” I inquired, handing her the marriage proposals.

          “You are asking me for my opinion on your letters?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That is new. Did you ever ask _her_ to give her opinion on such things?”

          I chuckled. “Is that jealousy, Camilla?”

          “No, only a bit of curiosity.”

          “Well, in that case I’ll indulge you. I only shared personal letters with Invidia if they contained information relating to our plans. Otherwise, never.”

          Her curiosity satisfied, Camilla read the letters. When she was done, she set them on the table with a laugh. “I cannot say I’m surprised. If you hadn’t come to the villa the day after returning home, no doubt my mother would’ve insisted I pay you a visit.”

          Knowing her mother as I did, that wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. It was she, after all, who’d trained Camilla in the courtesan’s arts from a young age. She did such a good job that Camilla had already become one of the most famous courtesans in the city scarcely a year after she’d made her debut. It was then that we made our first acquaintance. “And what do you think of them?”

          “I think the thought of marrying some lovely young woman must be greatly appealing to you,” she said coyly.

          “Well, I can hardly deny that outright, though I will add that age can be just as pleasing as youth.”

          She raised an eyebrow. “But older women cannot provide you with a legitimate heir. That would be your primary reason for marrying again, would it not?”

          “It would. I am in need of a legitimate heir,” I replied. “A young wife would be ideal for that purpose.”

          Camilla’s hand drifted down to her belly. “You already have children, and another to come.”

          “Not legitimate ones, and that’s unfortunately what counts.” Raucus’s earlier words about legitimizing my bastards came to mind as I spoke. The idea was appealing but rather far-fetched, even with Octavian’s approval, as most of the country was unlikely to accept it. “But this time, it will be my choice whom I marry. Invidia was forced on me by my parents. I aim to choose a wife to my liking this time around.” The feeling was very liberating, given how vociferously I’d railed against my first marriage.

          “Are you seriously considering any of these proposals?” she asked.

          “I’ve scarcely given them any serious thought, let alone made any replies. I thought I’d get your opinion first.”

          She pursed her lips in thought before replying. “I don’t in fact know any of these prospective brides. A courtesan is hardly someone considered appropriate company for a young lady of the Citizenry. And there is also the small matter that I’ve fucked most of their fathers or former husbands.”

          I couldn’t keep myself from laughing at that last remark. “Have you really?”

          “It’s the truth. I can’t imagine many of their mothers would be overly fond of me, nor would those whose husbands patronized me,” she said. “As I will be your officially-recognized consort and the mother of one of your children, that must be taken into consideration.”

          “Indeed. I endured one wife prone to jealousy; I’ll not endure another. I fully intend to find a wife who will at least tolerate my infidelity.” I had to admit that was quite high on the list of qualifications.

          “Perfectly understandable,” she replied with a grin. “Perhaps a young wife would be best. She’d be ripe for childbearing and would likely come to the marriage more… malleable than an older woman. She would not know as much of marriage or the world.”

          “Are you suggesting I seek out a nubile, naïve young girl to be my wife?” I asked, grinning.

          “Not necessarily—I’m merely pointing out that there is a case to be made that such a girl would suit your needs,” she replied candidly.

          “I’ll consider it. I suppose I could tolerate marriage to such a girl—I could certainly mold her into a pleasing lover. And I have you for companionship,” I pondered. But even as I said the words, I knew they were without conviction. That was, essentially, what I’d done before when married to Invidia. I’d sought pleasure and companionship outside of marriage so often that it became second nature to me. But now… I was suddenly unsure. I put the letters aside. “That is enough talk of marriage for now. I shall have to decide what response to make to these proposals eventually, but today is not the time.” I pulled her into my arms and kissed her softly. “Thank you for your advice. I will certainly take it into consideration.”

          “And I am happy to consult with you further on the subject whenever you should require my counsel,” she purred.

          All this talk of marriage and producing heirs turned my thoughts once more to her pregnancy. My fingers slid down to her belly of their own volition. She was not yet showing—it was still too early for that—but it would not be long. “How are you feeling, Camilla?” I asked softly.

          She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Fine, mostly. The nausea was… unpleasant in the earliest months, but it has passed.”

          “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve noticed your appetite has increased from what I am used to seeing from you. I trust the food here has been to your liking?”

          Camilla shrugged. “I have no complaints of it. The food is good, considering we are recovering from a siege and a horrific war.”

          I nodded. “It is my sincere hope that once the new harvest comes in, the food situation will begin to return to normal. I’m sorry you had to endure a siege in your condition.”

          “Don’t be.” She reached up to stroke my cheek. “It was my choice, Attis. We were fortunate to be able to provide some of our own food and have enough money to buy what we didn’t produce. My mother took it upon herself to ensure I never wanted for food.”

          “I shall have to thank her for taking such good care of you. If you crave anything in particular, do not hesitate to tell me and I will do all I can to procure it for you. I’ll go hunting every day to keep you supplied with fresh game if you desire it,” I said earnestly.

          “I will keep that generous offer in mind,” she murmured, and turned my face to hers. Her lips were soft as silk.


End file.
